Passages in Memory
by Mary Ruth Keller
Summary: As the Shadow government reconsolidates in the wake of its recent coup, Scully and Mulder take possession of a document that may lead them to her whereabouts during the three months she was missing. Along the way, they find unexpected allies and enemies, as well as clues that may lead them to Samantha.
1. Discovery

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Note to the reader: The stories listed as authored by Mary Ruth Keller are all in a single universe, the Kuxan Sum Cycle. While each is an investigation that stands alone, they should be read in the following order for the plot and character developments to make the most sense.

**The Caroline Lowenberg Trilogy**

_Sins of the Fathers  
__Xibalba  
__Twelfth Night  
_Saytr Play: _Rustic Suite_

**The Dana Scully Trilogy**

Prologue: _Time Out of Joint  
__Passages in Memory  
_Interlude: _Roman de la Pendrell  
__Archaea  
__Zurvan  
_Saytr Play: _Anath_

**The Sandra Ann Miller Trilogy**

_Chermera_

More following...

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_Passages in Memory_ by Mary Ruth Keller

Part I - _Discovery_

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Norfolk Naval Base  
Norfolk, Virginia  
Thursday, January 16, 1997  
8:16 am

Ensign Richard Palmer sighed as he lifted another report in a red striped cover off the pile. _Okay, what's out of date about this one, I wonder? It looks like it has never been opened. Oh!_ He didn't expect to be handed anything this old. This was his first assignment in Document Control, where his job was to sanitize one copy of old classified documents before they were scanned for records-keeping, then stored in a warehouse in rural West Virginia.

_Why not scan them first, then sanitize them?_ He had posed this question to his superior officer, Lieutenant Commander Charles Scully, when he was being briefed for the assignment. The answer made sense, in a government sort of way, so he had nodded. There was always a chance that the classified portions of the files could be accessed by clever hackers prior to deletion, or could somehow be retrieved from temporary files stored on disk. Here he sat, then, day after day, indelible black marker in hand, wiping out random words and phrases, or sometimes entire sections, that matched a numbered list he was handed separately from the documents.

_Don't complain, Rick, Norfolk's one of your better tours of duty._ His girlfriend, Lorena, was not more than an hour away, working in Richmond, so he would visit her whenever he could take leave. Cleansing reports like this wasn't nearly as taxing as some of his other potential assignments. He had read some dull stuff, some really clever ideas as well. It was a shame that because they were classified, the remaining copies were all dumped into burn bags for destruction afterward. But, with the end of the Cold War, some of the extensive Black World would inevitably be affected. Out-of-date documents that had collected dust in safes and warehouses for years were a perfectly good place to start.

_This is odd._ He frowned at the list on the sheet. _What's classified about 'merchandise'? Oh, well, follow orders._ He opened the report, entitled 'Preliminary Relocation Plan for Test Subjects,' then began reading.

-o-0-o-

Norfolk Naval Base  
Thursday, 11:58 am

"Hey, Palmer, shake a leg! You don't want to be late for chow!"

Looking over at the door, Palmer smiled at two of his buddies from ROTC in college who were waiting there. With his superior officer away, a long lunch seemed like a good break. He stuck a piece of paper in his place, right beside the heading 'Procedures for Identity Reassignment,' then swept the pile of documents and sheets into a thick carry-all. Lugging the pack to the safe, he grumbled about the weight before setting it down, then racked his brain for the new combination. Spinning the dial first several times to the left, then the right, then the left again, he was relieved when the mechanism clicked so he could rotate the handle.

"No sweat. I'll lock this stuff up and be right with you." The report he had been working on sometimes read like science fiction, so he made a mental note to check with his supervisor about it when Commander Scully returned from the shock trial. _After all, it might be a hoax or something, or, worse yet, a check by Security to ensure we are following procedures and regulations for disposing of this stuff properly._ Finished, he spun the dial four times, then once more for good measure, before hurrying into the hallway.

-o-0-o-

King Street  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Thursday, January 23, 1997  
6:57 pm

The well-dressed African-American with the closely trimmed beard stepped out of the narrow alley between the townhouses. The Old Men were all gone now, forcing him to cast his lot where he could find it. He watched the red-haired agent leave the restaurant, wondering how this least likely of assistants had ended up as one of the four in charge of the Organization. _Why did he go after Mulder and Scully on his own?_ There were many people willing to take that responsibility, himself included, since transitions of power were a chance for advancement, or, especially here, a opportunity for permanent removal.

When he remembered Mulder's name for him, X, a flash of mirth crossed his stoic features as a tightening of his forehead. A tribute to his invisibility or anonymity, he couldn't tell which, but the Man with the Morleys had entrusted certain facts to him, prior to his untimely demise. In the recesses of his own convoluted mind, he referred to the new leaders as the Gang of Four. But for the Gang to continue to function viably, to fulfill the required preparations, they needed to know what he knew.

_And that might, just might, save my own brain from an assassin's bullet._ He had been too late to save his white-haired superior, holding his smooth white hand as he bled to death on a Miami street. Fulfilling the man's final request, he had seen to an anonymous cremation, before scattering his ashes over the Bas-Armangac region of France. X hoped there would be someone there for him, if his own end came unawares. _Ah, good, here he comes._

"'Andrew' McConnell?"

The man froze, neither acknowledging nor denying the combination of cover and actual names.

X stepped in front of him. "I am in possession of certain facts that may be of interest to you." The red curls dipped once, so the two men fell in step, parting to pass a young, smiling couple pushing a double-wide stroller.

"Yes?" McConnell eyed his older associate. He knew who he was, of course, knew where the bearded man had stood in the previous order. _I should have had him terminated, but he knows too much about the FBI to eliminate him, yet._ "What can you tell me about Mulder?"

Shrugging, X stopped at the light. "That's not what you need to hear right now." He focused on the unlined face. _I wonder how long that will last._ "Much of the Organization's information was never written down. The real secrets were only passed orally to a few."

Impatient, McConnell waved his hand. "Don't waste my time with riddles. What do you know about Mulder?"

"Mister Mulder is *not* the issue here!" X's eyes glowed. "I have more than enough to deliver him to you, when the time is right."

As they stepped up on the curb after crossing Fairfax Street, McConnell lost his temper, growling under his breath. "Get this straight. *We* say when the time is right, not you! Mister Coal Factory gave you far too much latitude."

X moved into his face. "Maybe, maybe not. But secrets are being destroyed as we speak."

Now the younger man was shocked. "What?"

X nodded. "Without certain protocols in place, old information is being found and liquidated. You know the rules and regulations as well as anyone else. Now, while the People's government is very slow to move, when it does, everything is steamrollered that is in its path."

They resumed their walk up and away from the Potomac.

"So?"

"What is old may be of no interest to anyone except ourselves; however, there are trails some intrepid idiots should not start down."

McConnell nodded. "Very well. I'll make some calls. I know where to reach you, should your services be required."

X bowed slightly, since they were at the door of McConnell's apartment building. "Sleep well, Mr. McConnell."

The younger man snorted, observing X closely while he spun, then left. _I wish._

-o-0-o-

X-Files Offices  
Second Floor  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Thursday, January 30, 1997  
11:23 am

Doctor Andrea Rosen regarded the dark-haired man across the desk inquisitively. The question he had just thrown at her would have made her laugh, had it not been the exact topic she was here to discuss, one that elicited her deepest interest.

Both feet propped on the desk-top, Mulder waited.

The brunette decided it was best to ignore the tiny hole under the ball of his foot in her potential boss's left sole, so she could provide the answer. "Do I *believe* in extraterrestrial life?" Crossing her arms, she mentally arranged the parts of her response. "Well, Agent Mulder, I'm not sure *belief* has much to do with whether extra-terrestrial life exists or not."

He raised an eyebrow. _No wonder Scully wants you._

She steepled her fingers. "You see, life formed on this planet through a series of discrete events, based on an exactly correct combination of circumstances: this planet's orbit lies, first of all, not so close to the Sun that radiation would break down the chemical bonds between sections of amino acids. Nor, is it so far away that the Earth receives too little energy to sustain that life."

Waving his hand, he nodded. "I know, not too hoDiscoveryt, and not too cold, not too big, not too small. It has just enough active tectonism to develop oxygen in the atmosphere, but not so much the crust turns over too rapidly, as it does on Venus. So?"

She leaned forward. _He's done some reading, just as she said._ "So, there is no reason why this exact combination of conditions could not have been met elsewhere in the Universe, and life could have developed on many different worlds."

Mulder stopped fidgeting. _A Rational Believer? This I have to see._

Rosen interlaced her fingers in her lap. "If all went well on those planets, and evolution were permitted, through lack of a astronomical catastrophe - "

"Like an asteroid collision."

She nodded. "Or a stellar explosion, to operate, sentient life might have evolved elsewhere in the Universe, or perhaps even in this Galaxy."

Rising, Mulder walked around to the front of his desk, crossing his arms as he leaned against the hefty oak box. "But, Dr. Rosen, what do you *believe* about extraterrestrials?"

She frowned. "Let me be explicit, Agent Mulder. I accept the possibility that sentient extraterrestrial life may exist. Except for the first few fractions of a second of the Universe's existence, the Laws of Physics, even though we may not understand them all, remain constant. If life, and sentient life, could develop on this planet, it may have elsewhere."

_I heard that from Scully the first day too. I want more!_ He bent down into her face. "That's a good, rational answer. But what do you *believe*?"

Andrea shrank back in her chair. _Agent Scully was right about the Old World manners. Some of my French colleagues don't even get this close._ She spread her hands. "Very little, Agent Mulder. I accept many concepts and theories as proven to be true. I've studied so many ideas that seem, at first glance, to be impossible. For instance, who could accept that due to barrier tunneling, an automobile could, as a one in a few trillion occurrence, be translated outside the garage in which it sits?"

Mulder cocked his head, waiting for the rest.

Rosen leaned forward. "However, the mechanism is there from Quantum Mechanics, and likewise the possibility also exists. If one person were to report such an event, I would thoroughly question him, inspect the vehicle, check his character and past behavior, then say, based on what I learn, 'Yes, this *may* have happened.'" She stood, unable to contain herself. "However, if all the cars on one block in a single night shift out of place, I would be more inclined to look for an extremely clever hoax."

While she scanned the room, he nodded. _Open to extreme possibilities, but skeptical._ "But, the extraterrestrials, what if I were to tell you I have seen them with my own eyes?"

She turned to face him. "I would want proof. Eyewitness testimony is the least reliable of all, as every trained investigator knows." She shrugged. "It's nothing personal, Agent Mulder. You have your ideas, and when dealing with unknown phenomena, it's best to keep an open mind. But, there are standards the supporting evidence has to meet for any concept to be accepted as valid. I'd like to see those data, to be there to gather and analyze it myself."

He chewed his lip. _That's more than Scully was willing to admit to._

She began pacing, taking in the basketball hoop and the 'I want to believe' poster over the computer. "Until that time, I would neither accept or deny their existence. If there is a simpler theory that accounts for what you've seen, then until you come up with proof that supports your ideas, I would suggest, by Ockham's Razor, that the less cumbersome hypothesis is the best explanation of the facts."

Mulder regarded the slender woman with brown waves, cut just below the hairline. She was a few inches shorter than himself, equally taller than his partner. He knew from her curriculum vitae that in her recent Astronomy PhD from Cornell, an analysis of the COBE data, she had pointed out and modeled some unusual features in the spectrum of the Cosmic Background.

Standing in front of her, he crossed his arms, then edged into her personal space. "But what if the simplest explanation is the one that involves the paranormal?"

She met his eyes, sensing he was admiring the blue and green flecks in irises that were hazel like his own. _What is he looking for me to say?_ "Then, with sufficient supporting evidence, I would accept it. As a scientist, I can do no other."

Mulder arched one eyebrow. _I think I want you here too._

She stepped back. "However, one *could* argue that finding reliable data which verify a paranormal theory will move it, de facto, from the realm of the paranormal to the normal."

Grinning, he returned to lean against his desk. _This will be fun._ "So, if you lose, you coopt?"

Smiling, she unbuttoned the grey wool suit jacket to rest one hand on her hip, the other on the chair back, revealing an off-white silk blouse and an emerald and gold scarf. _Good, he wants to discuss possibilities, not demand I conform to some rigid code of New Age beliefs._

Mulder noted her apparel. Like his partner, she chose sensible professional clothing, the matching grey wool A-line skirt hemmed to just below her knee. Unlike the diminutive Scully, she could wear flat black pumps without fear of ridicule.

He found himself rising to the challenge. "Rosen?"

She expelled her breath in a sigh. "You could put it that way if you want. I prefer to think of it as the difference between seeing the cup as half empty or half full. We can say the probability extraterrestrial life may exist is vanishingly small, but that the possibility remains, nonetheless. Besides, if we could explain everything, there would be no need for science and exploration, would there?" She tipped her head to one side. "My problem with most alien abduction stories, Agent Mulder, is rather simple, if I may reply directly to your implied question."

He shrugged. _Here it comes._

"Even in the cases of so-called missing time, where subjects, usually after multiple hypnosis sessions, report fantastic tales of medical procedures and trips in spaceships, there is no supporting physical evidence. Now, no one can have organs removed, limbs detached, or give birth, without some physical scarring resulting, especially on the microscopic level. The human body simply is incapable of that degree of perfect regeneration. Yet, to my knowledge, and perhaps my work here will change that, no such supporting medical evidence has ever been produced." She paused, closing her eyes briefly. "If you want to know what I postulate is happening, alien abduction stories share many similarities with false child abuse accounts, or shamanistic trances."

Pacing in front of her, he frowned. _At least she's read and considered, but remember, she hasn't seen what we have._ "Trances? You mean you think they are making it up?"

She shook her head. "Not purposeful prevarication, although that does happen. I'm talking about the people who genuinely believe they have been abducted, and fear that if they were not, then they must be insane. In a way, we are back to one of the great unknowns of human evolution, specifically, the development of our tremendous brains."

He waved his hand. "Yeah, right, we don't need to be as smart as we are just to find food and reproduce. So you think these unsubstantiated alien encounters are all a class of trance state that results from some unique aspect of the mind?" _She really has thought carefully about this._ Mulder stepped close to the applicant.

She cocked her head. "The lucid dreaming state is so common, except in Western Culture, that it *must* be a feature of the human brain, that for whatever reason, some people are more capable of inducing in themselves than others. Usually, the trance has a religious overtone, as it does for Native Americans or Buddhist monks. But, the major religions of our civilization rely on rational thought."

He snorted, barely concealing his total disdain for conventional Christianity. "However *rational* it is to *believe* in the Resurrection of the Dead at some distant Day of Judgment."

She smiled up at him. "That's a debate we could have for years, Agent Mulder. But, notice that Scholastic theology or midrash halakhah all rely on rational extrapolation from sometimes irrational assumptions, not on mystical searches for spiritual enlightenment. So, when an untrained or a not very religious Westerner experiences what would in other cultures be considered a vision quest, we don't know what to do with the person."

His eyes came unfocused. _She takes the data seriously, just looks at it differently._ "Or we label them as crazy."

As she returned to her chair, she snapped her fingers once. _I could argue with this guy for days._ "Exactly. I have read of cases of people falling into trances in front of witnesses, awakening after a few minutes, and reporting abduction accounts on the spot, all without their physical bodies having moved." Rosen shrugged. "I'll bring you the books I have on the subject, if you like. Then there are cases like your sister's and Agent Scully's."

He narrowed his eyes. "You and Scully talked about this?"

Rosen rested her chin in her hand. "Yes. It would be foolhardy of me to deny that terrible things were done by someone to both of them." She stood to resume pacing, so he moved closer to her. "Now, she suspects, and I am inclined to agree, that the kidnapping was performed by groups in the government for some ignominious purpose. After all, we, the great and noble United States of America, have watched venereal disease kill African American men under the pretense of treating them, tested LSD on soldiers, radiation on unsuspecting citizens, and who can say what on our Native American populations."

He stood in front of her. "But why?"

Shaking her head, her lip curled in deep disgust. "I couldn't begin to supply reasons. Human depravity knows no bounds at times, and there is usually some twisted justification for it. All it takes is for some group to feel challenged, and they turn on the least powerful members of their culture. Sometimes the danger is contained, as we in America contained the Ku Klux Klan, but sometimes, it rages out of control."

He grimaced, but the Hunter in him took charge. "So you don't believe aliens are testing on humans?"

Wondering how much more plainly she needed to speak, she shook her head. "No, it's not *belief*, Agent Mulder, it's choosing the simplest hypothesis that explains all the facts. Why *should* we postulate aliens abducting people, taking them for rides in fantastic spaceships, and diddling with their insides when similar stories are reported throughout history and in other cultures, that are all the result of witnessed trance states, either self or externally induced? Why *should* we say aliens are crossing vast interstellar distances to torture a culture's unwanted when many national governments are doing exactly that, and leaving a paper trail to boot?" She stepped up to his face, grasping her left wrist with her right hand, behind her back.

Mulder opened his mouth to release a torrent of protest, stopping as the woman in front of him set an eyebrow in an eerily familiar slant.

"But, *but*, what you need to do is show me some hard, unequivocal, *physical* evidence that the tests and abductions are the result of the actions of aliens, rather than humans. Then, I'll lick the envelopes for the letters you write your congressman, demanding increased military spending for planet-wide defensive measures."

As she tossed her head, he broke into one of his broad grins. _Can't ask for more than that, G-man._

Assuming he was mocking her, Rosen frowned. "Look, I want to join the FBI specifically to work in this section. I'm interested in the new and unknown, as is every scientist. But, it's tough out there for young researchers, getting grants and proposals funded. Further, ideas like what you and Agent Scully explore here aren't studied in many other places."

He walked back to prop himself against his desk. "Well, you'll have no trouble passing the physical requirements. I've never met a triathelete before."

Raising an eyebrow, she surveyed his relaxed posture. _A seeker at rest, or an athlete in repose?_ "Agent Scully tells me you jog and swim, Agent Mulder. In many ways, the cycling's the easy part. All you need to do is set the seat right, and you use the same sets of muscles you do for running."

He held up one hand. "No thanks, I can find other ways to torture myself than that. A marathon and a century and how many miles in the water?" She shrugged. "Aren't my speed." He waved at the chair as he sat behind his desk again. "Scully tells me you have some ideas about how you'd like to change things."

Nodding as she settled down, she crossed her legs, then met his eyes. "Not change, *supplement*. I know this group doesn't do research per se, however, there are analysis techniques and equipment that could help you determine what some of these phenomena are, Agent Mulder. You do very little with radiative or electromagnetic probing, for instance. Unlike a few years ago, now there are commercially available units we could purchase and utilize, in the grand FBI tradition of developing new crime-fighting capabilities."

He leaned back in his chair. "But, in many of our cases, there is little to no physical evidence, Rosen."

She shrugged. _It's never easy._ "Then we develop new tools so we have the capacity to look for it, Agent Mulder. My interest is in determining whether any of the phenomena exist or not, and that means sometimes looking at the world in new and different ways. I know perfectly well that lack of evidence does not constitute disproof, nor are all supporting data equally useful." She leaned forward. "Hey, if you want to explore a 'haunted house' and I walk in there, loaded to bear with gizmos like one of the Ghostbusters, I don't care, as long as I walk out with some proof one way or the other."

Grinning, he stood to reach across the desk's expanse, extending his hand. "I think you'll be a welcome addition to the group, Doctor Rosen. And I'm just Mulder."

She took his hand in a firm clasp. "I'm looking forward to it, Mulder. I guess that makes me just Rosen."

Walking around the desk to the door between his office and Scully's, he held it open for her, waiting for her to pass through. Scully looked up from her autopsy report, raising an eyebrow. Mulder gave her a thumbs up as he turned to the younger woman. "We look forward to seeing you in June, Rosen." He remained standing, waiting for the younger woman to leave. After slouching into one of the visitor's chairs in front of his partner's desk, he proceeded to prop his feet on her folders, then drop his chin to his chest.

-o-0-o-

X-Files Offices  
Second Floor  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Thursday, 11:47 am

After stapling the pages of her report together, Scully smiled at the distant expression he wore while he focused on the fingers interlaced on his stomach. "Is it love, Mulder?"

His trickster side replaced the serious thinker, so he raised his face to focus on hers. "Nah. I'm just used to arguing with gorgeous skeptics at work." His eyes twinkled at her groan, before sobering. "But, I want her here. We need her ideas and enthusiasm. What did you think of Nichols? Agent Woo-woo or what?"

"Woo-woo is right. I thought he had an Ouija board in his briefcase that he would use to tell my fortune if I let the interview last any longer."

Her partner smirked. "He's my kinda guy. I need someone to balance out all the reason and logic the resolute distaff side of the Section will be throwing at us believers. Between you dissecting everything, and Rosen hitting our cases with all the frequencies of the electromagnetic spectrum, not even Tooms would stand a chance."

She wrinkled her nose at his arched eyebrows. "*Right*. He'll be a good counterpoint to Rosen, which is what we wanted." Rising, she took the other chair. "How much do we tell them?"

They locked eyes, then he dropped his feet to the floor. "How much would you have believed when you first came to work with me?" His voice subdued, she could read his vulnerability.

Crossing her legs, she leaned against the back and considered. _For every honest admission, give him one back, Dana._ "I'm probably not the best judge of that."

Knowing he was about to learn something new about his partner, he held his tongue.

"In a military family, and in medicine, you're taught to accept and trust authority. But, Rosen's an astronomer, and part of doing research in the physical sciences is not accepting conventional wisdom, so she won't necessarily be limited. What about Nichols?"

He replied with half-lidded eyes. "He's willing to believe the Government's developed phaser technology for shooting down aliens if there are enough lights in the sky."

She blinked in surprise. _How far you and I have come, Mulder; five years ago, that would have been you._ "So we'll wait and see, I guess. But, with Rosen still needing to complete her training and Nichols tied up with the Phillips case, we have a few weeks to decide."

Mulder slapped a hand on each of his knees. "So, are you ready for our first non-working lunch?"

Scully raised one corner of her mouth at her partner's eager expression. "Where did you have in mind?"

He leaned into her face, mimicking her. "Wait and see."

Lifting her chin, she frowned. "Now, this isn't a date, you know."

He sighed exaggeratedly. "Ah, I'll have to cancel the Limo then."

"Mulder!" She rolled her eyes as they walked into the reception room to collect their coats.

Cynthia waved as they went by, wondering, not for the first time, how two such different people could work together so well.

-o-0-o-

Trader Vic's  
Washington, D.C.  
Thursday, 12:01 pm

Lindhauer snarled at his cohort across the linen-covered table, but McConnell glared back. They were seated in a private booth in one of the District's poshest dining spots. The waiters were discrete, the lighting subdued, in contrast to the heated tempers within.

Lindhauer clenched his fists. "I can't believe you want to trust him. Don't you know he's been feeding Mulder information for the past few years?"

'Charlie' and 'Ace' were startled but it was the programmer who reacted verbally first. "What?"

The bespectacled, pudgy man leaned forward. "Old Black Lung thought he was indispensable!"

Lindhauer nodded, his long, hawk-like nose standing out in sharp relief with the dim illumination. "The old men had him tailed, and that's how they found out. If we hadn't seized control when we did, they were planning to terminate him. We may have to toy with Mulder and Scully a little longer, but there's no reason to keep a known informer alive."

McConnell shook his head. "Wrong, wrong, wrong. If he knows details about the Organization that are still important, we need to extract those before we finish him."

'Ace' frowned at both of them. "So, what's the problem here? We just call him in and hand him over to the experts; let them pull what he knows out and replace it with nonsense for him to keep feeding Mulder. A little brainwashing worked on Scully; she'll never be able to remember what really happened to her after the Psych Unit worked her over."

'Charlie' leaned close to the brunette. _So smart and gorgeous. Don't look at the Viking like that. I want you for myself._ "It won't work, 'Ace,' and that's why he was so trusted." The other three focused on him. "He has an eidetic memory, like Mulder, but unlike him, he isn't vulnerable to suggestion or mind control. He's one of those few people who totally fails to respond to hypnosis and thiopental sodium."

Lindhauer was enraged. "So we have to kow-tow to him, too?"

McConnell nodded. "Unfortunately, I think so. I trust him as little as you do, but, we need him. He knows the game, so we can expect him to release only as much information as he feels will keep us interested, but never all of it." He shrugged. "This brings me to our other problem."

'Ace' leaned towards Lindhauer. "Do you have the job yet?"

The blond head wagged. "Not that one; we need more recruits. With the end of the old men, we lost access to the overseas black units provided by the Japanese and the Germans."

McConnell fingered the rim of his plate. "I think I can bring in all the recruits we need. The good thing is they're all Americans, and willing to follow orders."

'Charlie' stared at him. "We don't need weekend warriors, we need trained soldiers and assassins, but the Germans and Japanese were the best."

'Ace' touched his arm, the contact sending a shiver through 'Charlie.' "The right-wing groups train regularly as if they were preparing for war. All we need to do is to feed the real fanatics among them a line about freedom fighting, and they'll charge off like lemmings." She shrugged. "Not all of them, to be sure, but enough for our purposes."

McConnell waved his hand at her, acknowledging her support. "Exactly. Within the next few weeks, I should have replacements for all the soldiers we've lost." He looked around the table. The four had been united in purpose while the Old Men were bumbling around, sipping tea and buying art with the Organization's funds. Now, little cracks were appearing that worried him. None of them disagreed with the goals, only the methods, but they needed to be unified when they spoke with the other Shadow governments. _A peace offering, then._ "So, dessert, anyone?"

Frowning, the brunette groaned. "This place is too rich for me. Sorry."

When the other two shook their heads as well, McConnell sighed. _A few weeks ago, you would have loved it._

-o-0-o-

Delhi Dhaba  
Washington, D.C.  
Thursday, 12:31 pm

The obvious relish with which Dana Scully had dug into the exotic dishes set before her had Mulder wiggling with contentment. The meal concluded, he leaned over the table toward her. "So, did I do all right?"

Scully smiled contentedly at her partner. "If you find more places with menus like this, I may never cook again, just live from Thursday to Tuesday on salads." Sighing, she wiped her plate with the last corner of flat, still-warm Naan. "I really expected a hot dog stand in a traffic circle, Mulder."

He licked his fingers clean of the spices and saffron-colored yogurt from the Tandoori chicken. "I'll save that for the next snowstorm." Sobering, he framed his words carefully. "You notice I chose a place well-away from our usual lunching spots." He watched her nod. "You were right earlier, this isn't a date, nor do either of us intend for these to turn into such. There are enough rumors flying around the building about us as it is. I don't want to add fuel to the fire, so to speak."

She lifted one corner of her mouth. "Thanks, I appreciate that. Scuttlebutt just gets started when a man and a woman work together on their own as long as we have."

He ran one hand through his hair. "Of course, it helps that I've only had two partners in my years at the Bureau who lasted more than a month, Jerry and you."

As a cell phone buzzed, each reached for their jackets.

While Scully lifted her unit to her ear, Mulder leaned back in his seat, gesturing to the waiter for the bill, half concentrating on his partner as she began speaking.

"Mom?" Her forehead crinkled. "Mom, slow down, okay?"

Concerned, Mulder rested his crossed arms on the table.

She was listening thoughtfully. "Did Val call you?" A pause. "When did this happen?"

As Scully waved her hand impatiently, unable to slow the torrent of words, Mulder read over the charges.

"Okay, Mom, okay. Let me talk this over with Mulder."

After she terminated the call, he dropped his credit card on the blue tray, then looked across the table at his partner. _I was hoping for no more bad news._ "What's wrong?"

"Apparently, Charlie's been in a automobile accident. Val wants my Mom and me to come down."

Frowning at the amount, Mulder dug in his wallet for a few seconds, then replaced the plastic with a pile of dog-eared bills. "Well then, go." He rose, shrugging into his coat. "All we're doing for the next few days is paperwork, and with Cynthia's help, it won't take long." As she stood, he held her wool long-coat open for her.

Once she had slipped in, then fastened it shut, she swiveled, her arm brushing his chest. "Are you sure? The Fordyce case report is done, but we usually handle the expense forms together. It's not like I can do much to help out down there."

He stepped aside, touching her back to guide her to the door. "Yeah, I'm sure." Once they had exited, they fell in step. "If your family needs you, you ought to be there, even if you're not the one working the scalpel in the operating room." He unlocked the car door, then opened it for her. "Sometimes just a soothing voice makes all the difference." He arched an eyebrow at her quick upward glance.

-o-0-o-

J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington, D.C.  
Thursday, 12:47 pm

Mulder checked his partner's face after the midnight blue Toyota pulled into the underground lot. They had completed the trip back to the FBI building in silence. "Go, Scully, or is something else bothering you?" As he circled the lot, he grew concerned at her lack of response, so, after parking, he touched her hand.

She jumped, turning to him while they unfastened their lap belts. _Starting right now, Dana._ "Yes, there is, Mulder. This isn't it, but, make sure you stop by the Infirmary to have those bandages changed tomorrow, all right?"

He cocked his head at her over the car's roof. "I'm a big boy, Doctor Scully." He smirked. "Besides, I thought you'd cornered the market on silver bullets by now. What is it, really? Are you still upset about your Mom, or is it just that it's Charlie?"

She pursed her lips. "It's more than that, Mulder, Val is extremely-" She blew out a frustrated breath. "-*domestic*. I feel so unwanted, like a fifth wheel. They don't need another woman around the place, especially one who has such little interest in children or crafts, as myself."

He glanced down at her as they walked to the elevator. "But they do need a man in the house."

"Hum?" She punched the up button.

"Well, with Charlie in the hospital, your Mom will be worried about him, Val will be worried about him and *John*?" He could tell by the slight widening of her eyes that she was surprised he knew so much about the rest of her family, even though he had met Bill Jr. only briefly. "Who will worry about Val and your Mom?"

"Oh." The deep doors rolled apart so they entered.

"Have Cynthia make some flight reservations for you for this afternoon. I'll drive you home and to the airport if you need it." After pushing the two button, a sharp thunk sounded in the small space as Mulder's knuckles accidentally rapped the metal corner of the hand-rail.

-o-0-o-

X-Files Offices  
Second Floor  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Thursday, 3:51 pm

Cynthia and Mulder looked up as the crisp crack interrupted their sorting of receipts, forms, and travel orders. He had slid one of his partner's extra chairs into the tiny front reception area to sit beside their secretary. After a rocky start, the little brunette had adjusted to him, had even taken a liking to his Kenya AA, freshly ground and at full strength. She would stop by Starbucks to pick up a pound or so, as needed. Mulder had been attempting to puzzle out Abner Fortner's handwriting on the room receipt when Walter Skinner had appeared.

"Yes, Sir?" He waved the Assistant Director towards the coffee-pot. _Perhaps I *won't* be roasted alive over accounting numbers today._

"You wanted to pass me a message from Agent Scully?"

Laying the papers aside, Mulder stood to approach his boss. "She had to leave unexpectedly on an urgent family matter, Sir. Apparently, her brother has been in a car crash, and it's not entirely clear when she'll be able to return."

Skinner nodded, reminding himself, that in times of trouble, the Scully family closed ranks. "Very well. Walk with me, Agent Mulder. We need to discuss your new hires."

Mulder's eyes narrowed. "In your office?" At his superior's motion of negation, the Agent reached for his coat.

-o-0-o-

North side of the National Archives  
Thursday, 4:03 pm

Two tall men in dark trenchcoats shivered as a sudden gust of frigid air whipped around the temple structure that housed the nation's most significant documents. The younger man with unkempt brown hair clasped the coat shut around his neck, while the older man gripped the tweed riding cap perched on his nearly-bald head.

"What is it, Sir?" They had made their way purposefully from their offices, so Mulder knew Skinner wanted to communicate with him away from hovering ears.

The older man's nostrils flared slightly. "Why are you and Agent Scully hiring duplicates of yourselves?"

Linguists and technicians, employed in task of reconstructing crumbling manuscripts, hurried down the marble stairs, past them, then across the street to the Metro. But Mulder had stopped in the middle of the wide sidewalk. The Assistant Director faced him, having come to the point in that plain-spoken, ex-Marine fashion his agent so respected.

A taxi driver honking at a bicycle messenger claimed Mulder's attention, so he glanced at the roadway for a moment. "We aren't, Sir."

Skinner turned the corner to walk south, away from Pennsylvania Avenue, over to the wide green way of the Mall.

Mulder trotted after him, speaking again when they were side by side. "Rosen and Scully are both Skeptics, yes, but Scully lacks the skills and expertise Rosen has in the Physical Sciences, so she'll complement her knowledge of Medicine and Biology."

The older man waited for the light on Constitution Avenue to change, moving out of the handicapped ramp as a man in a wheelchair rolled up behind them. "Ah. And Nichols?"

Mulder focused on the line of visitors standing on the warmer south steps of the Archives, waiting to view the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. "He balances Rosen, Sir."

The two men eyed each other, Skinner waiting for his agent's explanation, setting Mulder wondering, as he always did, just how much he could trust his superior. The white symbol of a striding figure glowed, so the two men quickly crossed the broad avenue.

Mulder glanced over at his superior once they were past a knot of Smithsonian visitors. "May I speak freely, Sir?"

Skinner waited until after they were south of the National Gallery of Art, stepped across the low chain fence, and were walking down the center of the Mall towards the obelisk that is the Washington Monument, to respond. "I think it's probably safe to do so now." Both thought of the shadowy forces each, in his own way, was working against.

Having chosen this open ground to safeguard their communications, Mulder proceeded, oblivious to the domed temple of Democracy behind him. "When Agent Scully was assigned to me, the Shadows had the aim of discrediting my work through her reports and observations. But, she was, and is, one of the most rational people I know. Somehow, I've been able to convince her that there might be something in what I say, even though we can document and verify so very little of it."

Skinner nodded.

Mulder continued. "I want to change the focus here; I don't want the X-Files Section to be just two pairs of agents sent willy-nilly across the country. I want us to be a tight group that performs careful, directed, *searches* for the extra-normal, looking for evidence of something beyond what we understand, while we continue the investigations sent down by the Bureau. Our enemies have had years to plan, and if we continue to merely react, they will always have the upper hand." The two men faced each other.

"How do you intend to use Rosen?"

"She wants to determine whether these phenomena we've been reporting exist, so she's open-minded about the whole matter. She wants proof before she'll accept what I believe; but she's willing to work to obtain that evidence, and will bring fresh ideas to help us acquire it, if we can." They resumed their progress to the west.

Skinner squinted at the lowering sun. "So her approach will be different from Agent Scully's, but what about Nichols?"

Mulder shrugged. "I'm a Section Head now. I have responsibilities to my partner and the agents I've been given charge over, to you, the Bureau, and Senator Matheson. I have to stop behaving like a tripped-out lone wolf, take care of my people, and make the most of this opportunity I've been given, Sir. But at times, someone in the group will have to be the figure on the margins, and Nichols is willing to do that."

Skinner faced the younger man, watching as another gust of wind dropped his dark hair into his eyes. _You've grown, Mulder._ "I'm relieved to hear you have a plan. Where do you want to put them?"

Mulder shoved his bangs off his forehead. "I'd like to set them up in our old basement office, if we can keep the room from reverting back to storage. For Nichols and Rosen to become effective partners, they need to spend time together, away from Scully and me. We were able to hash out our differences in privacy for several years down there, and that space is one of the things that helped us become the team we are today."

Skinner's eyes narrowed. "So you plan to give them their own office. Good. I'm relieved to hear you thinking this through, Agent Mulder. Senator Matheson was wondering how your plans to expand the group were coming, so I'll be able to report some success to him when we meet tomorrow morning." They paused as they stepped over another low chain to the Fourteenth Street sidewalk.

"So, Sir, you approve?"

Before they turned north again, hunkering into their wool wraps, Skinner nodded. "I'll make sure the space is held and outfitted for you, Agent Mulder. I presume you and your helpers will see to it that it is free of unwanted monitoring?" While he moved into the roadway, he checked for the younger man's affirmation.

Mulder's response was to grab his AD's arm before he was struck by a swerving Porsche, which had roared around the corner. The impatient, self-absorbed driver had chosen a course against traffic that was through briefcase-carrying pedestrians. As he stepped up onto the curb, Skinner thanked his agent with a quick nod, but Mulder's mind was with his partner and friend, wondering how her flight had gone.

-o-0-o-

Scully Home  
Norfolk, VA  
Thursday, 4:39 pm

As the rented Taurus pulled into the driveway, then she heard the engine cease, Margaret Scully turned from the window to the door. "Dana!" She ran down the lawn to hug her only daughter around the neck. "Fox phoned to say you were on your way." The two women stepped apart. "Why didn't you call? One of us could have met you at the airport."

Scully shook her head. "I'm a big girl, Mom." The unintentional repetition of her partner's words made her duck her face. "You needed to be here for Val and John. How's Charlie?"

Margaret walked beside her daughter to the back of the rental car. "Well, the doctors say he will recover just fine..."

Scully eyed her Mother as she unlocked the trunk to retrieve her luggage. "But?"

The older woman put one hand to her chin. "He keeps asking for you, Dana."

She slammed the trunk shut without removing her bag. "Then let's go, Mom."

Nodding, Margaret hurried back to the house to lock up.

-o-0-o-

Room 327  
Portsmouth Naval Hospital  
Thursday, 7:13 pm

Three heads turned as the lever on the door rotated.

"Gamma!" Little John Scully ran over to hug his grandmother's knees. Scully nodded to her sister-in-law, noting as she did that the dark patches on Val's hands and arms, a common side-effect of pregnancy, nearly matched her straight brunette page-boy. Valerie Scully, in her eighth month of pregnancy with what amniocentesis had revealed would be yet another nephew for Scully, remained seated when the other women entered.

Charles looked his visitors over. "Dana." There was no inflection of joy or relief, merely recognition in the tone.

Scully strode across the room to her brother's bedside, where she crossed her arms. "Charlie, what happened?"

He glanced down at the cast on his leg. "Oh, this? Just a hit and run, nothing major."

Scully sat on the edge of the bed. Now was not the time for old sibling rivalries. "*Charlie*, what?"

He turned to his wife. "Val, would you take your Mom and John home, please?" Val frowned, but her husband had set his face in an expression of non-negotiable determination Scully knew all too well. The two women made their farewells, then left before he turned to his sister. "Dana, we were being followed."

"Who's we?"

"Ensign Palmer and myself. He had stopped by with a document he wanted to show me. His apartment was only a few blocks away, so Palmer had walked over, and after we talked, I was accompanying him home. I think you'd be interested in it, Dana, it contained some really strange stuff."

"What?" As he sat up, Scully pulled the pillow straight behind his back.

"We'd been assigned the task of sanitizing a bunch of classified papers that had been found stashed in some dusty warehouse. Our unit is on shore duty for a while, and I guess the Navy figured on giving a bunch of dumb sailors some work to do. Palmer was originally concerned that it was a hoax, or a false document planted by security to test our procedures. If Mom hadn't told me about some of those strange cases you and that lunatic partner-"

She frowned at her brother's obvious low opinion of Mulder.

"-of yours investigate, I would have agreed." He grasped her arm. "I think it's for real. Anyway, I hid the report."

She shook her head, then leaned forward until his lips were by her ear. After he finished whispering, she stood. "Where's Palmer?" She watched Charlie's face darken. "Oh." She enclosed her brother's hand in both of hers. "How soon can you be out of here?"

"Saturday. I'll have to take leave for a few days. "

Scully began to depart, then turned back. "Charlie?" He looked over. "Thanks for talking to me."

Confused, he shrugged. "Hey, Sis, no sweat. What?"

"Can you ask for a guard?"

"Sure, but why?"

She shook her head. "I'd just feel you were safer, that's all."

As she left, Charles Scully picked up the hand unit on the table by the bed.

-o-0-o-

Dark Apartment  
Arlington, VA  
Thursday, 8:47 pm

At the first buzz, a long hand lifted a cell phone to the right ear above an equally long jaw.

"Yes?" The man pressed the pause button on the remote, and the buxom nymphet on the screen froze in mid-writhe, her fingers entwined in the golden hair of some equally idealized Adonis. _A man has to relax sometime._

"The information is disappearing."

He pulled himself upright off the couch, the end of his loosened tie sliding over the untucked white shirt, falling forward just as his blond curls descended down his forehead. "Stop playing with me! What information?"

"Whole warehouses are being incinerated as we speak."

Now he shoved himself off the couch, pacing, with his cell phone at his ear. "All you ever do is speak in riddles! Give me something I can use, or,..."

The cool voice assumed a barbed undertone. "Or what? Don't threaten me, or I'll take what I know to other ears, who won't turn away from me, but accept my help eagerly."

"All right, all right." Lindhauer sank back onto the couch. "Talk to me. What information?"

"From the earliest days, when routes for moving the merchandise were laid down, and the first procedures were instituted. The policies that are still in use today."

His mouth suddenly went dry, so Lindhauer licked his lips. "Who?" He rose again. "Who has them?"

"The wrong people."

Now he was truly angry. "How?"

The voice dropped lower. "As I said, the time had long passed since official orders were issued for the documents' destruction, but now, those directives are being implemented, by people who are no longer alive."

"What?"

"The one who has read the unaltered reports can not tell what has passed into his mind and memory. He was struck by an out of control automobile while on his way home, and, sadly, bled to death from multiple lacerations before help arrived. In such a way, old servants prove their worth to the new Organization."

"You killed this man?"

"I am a loyal, old servant."

Lindhauer's blue eyes hardened. "Do you have the document?"

"It can be retrieved."

"I will be in touch, after I speak with the others. Do nothing further until you have heard from me again."

"As you wish, Mr. Lindhauer."

Lindhauer shifted the phone to hit the END button, stopping when the voice continued. "What?"

"As I said at my last meeting with your associate, it must not be allowed to fall into the possession of certain persons, who would understand its worth."

"No, no, we'll tail them for a while to find out what they know. If they are interfered with now, they can call on more aid than they should have available to them. We can't touch them until they are isolated again."

"An excellent analysis of the situation."

Lindhauer terminated the call, then released the tape to advance. But, as he settled on his sofa, his mind drifted through several possible courses of action. The acrobatics on the screen retreated from his mind until they were only background, like the wallpaper or the mangrove monitor lizard warming himself under the lamp in his cage.

-o-0-o-

Apartment 42  
Arlington, Virginia  
Thursday 9:11 pm

The tall agent sprawled on his futon, restlessly changing channels. Usually, he would have found some reason to call or visit his partner, such as a run in the cold that would have ended at her place so she could fuss at him over his masochistic tendencies. _Don't get too used to that, G-man._ Or, one of them would initiate a phone conversation that could only be concluded in person, immediately.

After all these years, he had admitted one truth about himself to her in Miami; he was tired of being alone. Except, that is, when one of his moods kicked in, but she had worked with him long enough to know how to recognize their onset. Blessedly, she had taken it upon herself to jog him back to reality if they went on for more than a day or so.

Right now, he was itching to call her and tell her about Nichols' idea that poltergeists were the trapped souls of suicides, just to hear her groan, then systematically rip the thought to shreds. He could hardly wait for their new recruits to join the Section. There was enough overlap and difference among the four of them to make a dynamic and invigorating team. Rosen was more ruthlessly logical than Scully, if that were possible, yet she was more immediately open to extreme possibilities. Although, she would *demand* proof and rigorous support for his ideas. Nichols was a different animal altogether. Both the partners expected he would sweep the crime scene for vibrations, something like the Stupendous Yappi had done. _He'll make me look sane._

The first buzz had him reaching for the phone on the coffee table. "Mulder." His name emerged in a deep growl. When he heard the voice on the other end, he pointed the remote at the screen and pressed the power button.

"It's me. You okay?"

He coughed as he sat up. "Yeah, great. Hang on." For maximum effect, he held the unit away from his head, then shouted into his empty kitchen. "Hey, Frohike, tell the girls to keep it down!" He smirked at the bark he could hear even a foot away.

"Mulder!"

"What's up, Scully?"

Her voice dropped to a deep alto purr. "Obviously not you, partner."

His eyebrows shot under his flopped-down hair. "Ooh, but that's because I'm by myself tonight." _We'll really have to be careful about joking like this. One wiretap ..._ "How's your brother?" Silence. "Scully, you there?"

"We need to secure our communications. Call me." Click.

-o-0-o-

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Thursday, 9:36 pm

Mulder surveyed the unwieldy stack of electronics, all blinking lights and wiggling oscilloscope traces, interconnected by a dense web of cables. A thick trunk of hastily tie-wrapped wires extended from a home-made connector box to an unassuming black ISDN phone. He hadn't seen so much technology focused on a single problem since he had interrupted his three friends descrambling one of the European adult channels for Frohike a few years earlier.

Langly was replacing the cover on the mouthpiece. "We can monitor any signals from the digital line two ways, G-man. But, if the Doc takes the call on her cell phone, the signal's loose on the airwaves, and anyone can pull it down."

The agent nodded. "Then I'll call into a stationary set." He consulted his black address book before entering the number. Frohike, noting the page was open at S, leaned over, but Mulder shut the notebook with a snap. After two rings, the call was answered.

"Mrs. Scully? May I speak with Scully?" He stopped pacing to sit.

"Hey." When Byers began waving frantically, the tall man frowned. "I T-hought S-uch T-alk A-bout P-olitical P-roblems E-nds D-aily."

Her cool voice sounded in his ear. "I-t's L-oosly L-ost C-harm A-nd L-ets L-ong B-oring A-narchists C-all K-ings." Another click.

-o-0-o-

Thursday, 10:48 pm

Mulder grabbed the phone before the first ring ended.

"Hey." He had been pacing while chewing his lip almost since the previous call concluded.

"It's me."

He stared at Frohike, waiting for the short man's nod before continuing. The Gunman was listening holding a hand over each earpiece of his headphones while he gave the all-clear signal. Mulder's pupils widened slightly as his concentration shifted to the woman at the other end of the conversation. "You're clean, Scully. What's happening?"

"I'd like you to come down here, Mulder. I'm be at the South Entrance of Lynnhaven Mall, waiting. Don't worry about packing, just head out. I don't want to say anymore over the phone."

Frohike's motions caught his eye. "Okay. See you." Two clicks, then the agent focused on each of his three friends in turn. "Guys, go over my car. I want a secure place where Scully and I can talk down there."

Byers and Langly responded, digging through a massive pile of cables for a long broomstick with a loop of wire nailed to one end.

Frohike detached himself from the monitoring equipment. "This is serious, Mulder. You weren't even tailed this closely over the D'Amato papers."

The agent looked down at his short friend. "I know. I don't like it that Scully's family is being pulled into this maze. My Mom and Max can look after themselves, but Mrs. Scully is lost without a clue. She still votes Republican and longs for Ike."

As Frohike shook his head, Byers and Langly departed to inspect the car. Upon their return, two somber, very worried Gunmen faced Mulder.

Byers stuck his hand in his right suit jacket pocket. "You were right to have us check." He held up a small disk by one of several multicolored wires. In response to the Agent's cocked eyebrow, he simply stated: "Car radio."

Langly patted Mulder's shoulder. "We took the liberty of filling the gas tank, G-man. Government surplus from Operation Desert Storm."

Mulder grunted as he stepped into the hallway. "If it's good enough to stop Saddam, it's good enough for me."

-o-0-o-

Lynnhaven Mall  
Friday, January 31, 1997  
3:26 am

Dana Scully nodded to the security guard as a familiar Toyota pulled up to the curb.

Her partner leaned over from the driver's side to push the passenger door open. "You okay?"

She dropped the shopping bags in the back, then slid in beside him. "Yes. I turned the rental in at the airport and had a cab drive me out here. The guys swept the car?"

He waited to reply until they moved back into traffic. "Yeah. They almost caught you on that last phone call. What's all the sound and fury about?"

She reached through the gap between the seats, retrieving a brown and green gift box. "This." She lifted off the top, pushed the tissue paper aside, then tapped the red striped cover of a report. "The title is 'Preliminary Plan for Relocation of Test Subjects'. It's dated June 13, 1953, Mulder."

The unspoken conclusions hung in the air, as his jaw tightened, _Test subjects like Scully._ and she replaced the lid on the carton. _Test subjects like Samantha._

"No wonder they wanted it so badly, Scully. How did it come to you?" He checked her face.

Scully's expression set into porcelain. "Charlie's unit was assigned to sanitize materials prior to declassification. This copy has already been worked over, though." This last was offered softly, in apology.

He shook his head. "It's no problem for the guys. Where can we hide it?"

She shrugged. "I don't think we can. The Group knows our methods, so I think we'll have to keep it in our personal possession at all times."

"I'll have one of them come down and retrieve it. Are there any more like this one sitting around?"

"Apparently there was a whole warehouse of reports they were working through, and this document scared one of the young ensigns under Charlie's command."

"If the information on those pages is what I think it is, I can understand why. What happened to the kid?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "He was killed in the hit and run that broke my brother's leg, Mulder."

"Oh." In the light from the tall street lamps, he saw her redden, so he changed the subject. "What's in the other bags?"

She rubbed her face. "Clothes." Since the car was stopped at an intersection, they faced each other. "For you, Mulder. I don't know how long it will take to go through Charlie's basement, and I had asked you to come down here unprepared, so I figured it was the least I could do."

At the change of signals, he shifted, then stepped on the gas. "You mean there's more?"

She nodded. "I don't want to say this until I'm sure, which is why I asked you to come down, but I think Charlie's tangled himself up with some of the right-wing groups McConnell's attached to."

"Okay. Tell me how to get to his and Val's place." She directed him though a few turns and lights, then, once they had settled on a longer stretch of road, he glanced at her sober face. _Lighten up, Scully._ "So, how many size forties did you pick up for me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Mulder, we've done wash together so many times, what kind of an FBI Agent do you take me for? I *know* it's 32-34 for the jeans, larges for the sweats, and 16 longs for the shirts. I also took the liberty of buying you suitable neckwear for a Section Head." Punching a button in the overhead, she activated a spotlight, then held a slip of red silk covered with tiny gold dots in the narrow beam.

He grimaced. "First, a power tie, next, all my hair falls out, right?"

"Or this?" She held out a royal purple number with a single row of sunflower seeds running down the center axis.

His eyes glowed as if he were a little kid at Christmas. "Ah, Scully, I knew I could bring you around to my way of thinking if I only tried hard enough." He smirked at her groan. "And the rest?"

She tossed her head. _Back at you, partner._ "Well, I stopped by the Warner Brothers Outlet ..."

"*Scully*." The menacing undertone was barely a ripple.

She spoke to the glass of the side window to conceal her grin. "But they didn't have any that came with extra ventilation." As he choked and sputtered, she pointed primly at the next intersection. "Turn right at the light. We can call the guys from the pay phone inside that convenience store."

-o-0-o-

Seven-Eleven  
Arlington, VA  
Friday, 3:53 am

Lindhauer canted his gaze to the front of the store when the bells on the entrance chimed. A lone red-haired man entered, then the two made eye contact, but no more. Each appeared to wander aimlessly through the aisles, until finally, as if by chance, they crossed paths by the beer freezer.

Popping the door open, McConnell selected a six-pack of Rolling Rock before he faced the blond man. "What's going on?"

Lindhauer shook his head before taking a single of Sam Adams for himself. After they paid, then left, he pointed to his Mercedes, so the two climbed in. "I think I'm being followed, 'Andrew', but I need you to check for me."

McConnell nodded, watching in the rear-view mirror as Lindhauer made several turns, finally doubling back to the parking lot. "You are." They locked eyes. "But who?"

"Not our bearded informer. He's been asleep since ten, according to his tail. Mulder and Scully are in Norfolk."

McConnell frowned. "So you think it's their three strange friends?"

"Was it a van?"

McConnell shrugged. "It was too dark for me to tell, but it was large."

Lindhauer nodded. "Then it probably was. Mulder and Scully know who you are, so it was only a matter of time before they worked out who the rest of us were." The two men glowered at each other.

"We'll tell 'Charlie' and 'Ace' to watch themselves."

"Right, but for now, turnabout is fair play. I'll set Luther and a few of our men on the denizens of the fringe media." Waving as McConnell returned to his own vehicle, Lindhauer punched a button on his cell phone. "I have some troublemakers I'd like for you to tail, starting tonight."

-o-0-o-

Scully Residence  
Norfolk, Virginia  
Friday, 4:11 am

Margaret followed the partners into the basement, which had been finished with variegated industrial carpet and nut brown paneling as a rumpus room by the previous owners. Her son had been assigned to Norfolk less than six months earlier, after a four-year stay in Charleston. With Val's pregnancy, many little-used items were still in their packing boxes. The unmarked cardboard cartons, stacked in the far corner of the basement behind her stationary bicycle and little John's playpen, were a silent testament to the mobility of life in the Navy.

Closer to the rough, open stairway, which was attached to the west wall, were the pieces of furniture Charlie had organized into a quiet space for himself. At the foot of the stairs was a beaten-up grey metal desk, and at an angle to it, a gaudy plaid acrylic sofa, facing the few feet of wall beyond the landing. On the dark paneling, he had mounted an old dart board, so he could buy himself some privacy from his rambunctious child by claiming it was too dangerous to have him downstairs. Scully wondered how many games her partner had played in the pubs around Oxford. She had her answer when he plucked a feathered projectile out of one of the sectored circles to loft it experimentally. _You really *did* do more in England than chase Phoebe, didn't you?_

Her Mother's frustration at being left out had reached the breaking point, so she stood in front of Scully. "Fox, Dana, will one of you *please* tell me what's happening to my family? First, I find out my house is wiretapped, then you start waking up with nightmares again, now Charlie is in an accident. Once you're here, we discover the phones may be monitored!"

Shaking his head, Mulder touched a finger to his lips.

Margaret was horrified. "You think this place is bugged, too?" She looked from one nodding head to the other.

Scully linked arms with her Mother. "It's a safe bet, so please, let us work down here. Just show you know who down when he arrives. You didn't see anyone?"

The older woman mouthed no, then gasped as Mulder rolled up his sleeves, revealing arms swathed in a thick layer of white gauze. "That happened down in Arkansas?"

Scully nodded in response.

He smirked when he saw that his partner was frowning at the bandages. "Not up to the standards of my personal physician? We'll just have to change the hiring criteria for the nurses at the Infirmary."

Turning to her Mother, Scully waved her hand at the verbal challenge. "Yes. We had a run-in with a pack of coyotes on our last case, Mom. I have them too, see?" She nonchalantly dropped her coat on the chair, then held out her arms as well. She had not bothered to change out of her dark tan wool suit and sleeveless pale green blouse before boarding the plane at National.

Shaking her head, Margaret ascended the basement stairs.

Scully looked over at Mulder. "Before himself arrives, sit and look through the package."

He held out his hand for the box. "Yeah. You never know." He settled at the desk, turning the report's cover, as Scully stepped out of her heels to begin riffling through flyers and announcements of meetings on the bookshelf.

-o-0-o-

Friday, 7:23 am

"Thank you, Mrs. Scully!" The agents stopped working as the door to the basement opened, then Byers tripped his way on down.

Mulder replaced the report in the box to hold it out silently.

The Gunman beckoned them up and out of the house. "Check it out, Agents." They had purchased and outfitted a van for their roving surveillance activities. Mulder offered Scully a hand up to climb into the rear.

"Wow!" She took in the video monitors, the computers, the test equipment, and the rack of recording devices. "Mulder, this is better than Max's RV."

Frohike beamed. "All paid for courtesy of Uncle Sam."

"What?" She stepped closer to the little man, who held perfectly still, as if she were a wild doe nibbling his shoelaces in the forest.

Langly piped up. "You remember that 1.3 Billion the NSA was hiding?"

Mulder nodded. "You guys apply for a grant or something?"

The long-haired Gunman grinned. "Almost, G-man. The money was concealed from the usual government oversight through a bit of creative accounting, and with the right access..."

Scully spun on her heel, ignoring Frohike's sigh as she moved away. "Are you saying you stole the money?"

Mulder rose to their defense. "It's the people's money, Scully, the guys are just using it to monitor what the people's government is doing with it."

Byers placed the package on a worktable screwed to the floor. "Freedom of the Press. Shall we send you a digitized copy of the pages once we desanitize the sanitization?"

The tall agent frowned. "No. The Shadows are too much on top of this one. I've read the pages until I can't see, so why don't you scan the document as is and leave that with us?"

Frohike began to set up the recording system Mulder recognized from Phoenix. "We'll do this two ways." He removed a spy camera from a cabinet, "One, high tech, and one, low tech. You'll keep the film, just in case. Then we'll head back to DC. How is it with your brother, Agent Scully?"

She shrugged. "Charlie will be fine. It's just a broken leg, and he'll be home tomorrow, so Val can look after him."

The group settled down to work, but Mulder, who knew he would be useless for the next few hours, began roaming the van. He found he was attempting to puzzle out the functions of the equipment his friends had mounted on the racks bolted to the floor. A tube in the rear right corner of the vehicle caught his eye. "Hey, Frohike, what's the periscope for?"

The little man raised his head then, with a smile, handed the camera to Scully, who continued snapping photos of the pages for him. He walked back to stand beside the tall man. "What all periscopes are for, Mulder, covert monitoring of the surrounding territory."

The agent grinned. "I didn't see it from the outside."

The Gunman beamed. "Yes you did, but, Mister Smart, you didn't know it."

Scully frowned. "It's one of the decorative stacks you have on the back of the van, isn't it?"

Frohike patted Mulder's arm before he called to her over his shoulder. "Good guess, Agent 99, it's both of them, actually. With the connecting cable, we can use the stacks as line antennas to detect low frequency RF signals." The Gunman pointed to a control panel with several switches and signal cables running to the rack-mounted Pentium. It was beside the tube for the eyepiece, which could be adjusted in height to accommodate Frohike or Mulder. "We have rigged it for 360 degree viewing on either side of the van, or we can feed video from both into the computer to calculate distance to a target."

Mulder shook his head. "How?"

Scully growled. "The same way our eyes do, through stereo imaging. Mulder! You should know that!"

He winced. "Sorry. I'll pay more attention the next time, teacher."

His eyes glowing, Frohike walked forward to her. "It was my idea, Agent Scully."

Silently, she handed him the camera, pointedly ignoring his attempt to win her favor.

-o-0-o-

Friday, 9:13 am

Mulder accepted the leaflet from his partner.

"That's it, Mulder." Since the Gunmen had departed a few minutes earlier, she was updating him on her findings.

He turned it over, reading the sponsor list carefully."I see, Scully. It's this 'Sons of White America' group that McConnell was involved with." He glanced up to catch her nod.

She sighed. "Mom and Val won't be ready for this right now, as much as Mom wants to know what we've discovered."

As she leaned against the back of his chair, he rubbed his face. "Yeah, I know." Mulder checked his partner over carefully. "Look, we've both been up all night, and I couldn't string two intelligent sentences together if Skinner were standing over me with a shillelagh."

Scully wondered vaguely whether she should treat that statement as a quip or an honest confession. Given her own mental state, she chose disclosure over witticism. "Let's take a break, Mulder; there's not much more we can do here. I need a shower, and those bandages..." Grimacing, she pulled her suit jacket back on, buttoned it, then wiggled into her shoes.

He stepped aside to let her up the stairs first. "But Nurse Jennifer was so concerned and careful."

As she opened the door at the top of the stairs, she felt she had to rise to the bait. "This is the blonde aerobics instructor?"

Mulder nodded.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Cradle robber."

He smirked.

She tossed her head. "Let me guess, due to your irresistible manly charms, she offered to stop by this evening to look after you personally?"

"Scully! What kind of a callous knave do you take me for?" They fell in step as they walked through the hallway to the flight to the second floor. He caught her suddenly serious face out of one corner of his eye. _We'll be all right, Scully._ "Besides, it's not like there are any available *older* women out there, right?"

She shot him a Look, then slapped his stomach with the back of her hand.

He wrapped his arms around his waist. "Ow! Harassment! Sue! Sue!"

-o-0-o-

Margaret shook her head as she heard them pass the kitchen.

Val smiled. "Are they always like that, Mom?"

The older woman nodded. "Usually. Fox longs for his missing sister, and Dana missed out on a close relationship with Bill Jr. and Charlie, so they fill a void each is only sometimes aware exists."

The younger woman stood, moving slowly to the sink. "But?"

Margaret joined her, taking the dishrag away, then pointing at the chair. "But nothing, unfortunately. They have their own little world, and not even Caroline can get in all the time."

"Well, I suppose, to be a surrogate sister is a good thing, considering how alone Dana always was otherwise."

Pensive, Margaret nodded. "I just worry what will happen if Fox does find Samantha." Before she began washing the breakfast dishes, she reached for the boom-box over the sink, hoping Val had set the station to something relaxing.

-o-0-o-

Interstate 95 south of Massaponax, VA  
Friday, 11:23 am

Byers tuned the microwave receiver to 9.375 GHz. They had timed their return after the end of the DC rush hour, rather than during it, when they could have concealed themselves from a possible tracker in a packed mass of commuters. Now, not only were they proceeding unimpeded, but the State Police were standing down from the accidents and arguments. It would be less likely that their black van would be stopped and ticketed. However, it never hurt to check, so the bearded Gunman waited for a tell-tale blip indicating a police radar in operation.

Frohike caught sight of Byers' actions in the rear-view mirror. "Anybody have their ears on out there?"

"Nope. I think we'll be clear until Potomac Mills."

Langly lifted his nose out of the report. "Good. The sooner we get this Little Red Book out of sight the better. I think Mulder and Scully will want to know what was blacked out as soon as they hit the Beltway." He had been carefully removing the indelible ink with acetone, so the interior of the van reeked with its pungent odor.

Byers leaned over. "What does it say?"

Frohike monitored the conversation in the back while changing lanes. "Anything about what happened to Agent Scully?"

The two other Gunmen rolled their eyes, then Langly glanced towards his friend at the wheel. "It happened to a lot of people, Frohike, not just the Doc. But it talks about the special signals for pick-up and transfer at out-of-the-way train stations, or how to move a subject without detection through the normal passenger rail system."

Byers nodded. "We always knew there was a reason the Government wanted to keep Amtrack going."

Langly looked him in the eye. "It's everywhere, man. But now we know why the boxcars were so important."

Frohike glanced back over his shoulder. "A dependence on mass transportation, something else Klemper and Company brought over from the Thousand Year Reich."

Byers turned back to the oscilloscope patched into the receiver output. "No wonder it broke down eventually. Now, had they had the foresight to move the subjects by Interstate, they wouldn't have to depend on Special Forces. Hum, that's interesting."

"What?" Two voices chimed together.

"I set the dial to tens of megahertz by mistake, rather than gigahertz, and I'm picking up signals."

"What!" Two speakers again, then Langly continued. "There shouldn't be anything operating that low, unless it's covert."

Frohike moved over into the right-most lane. "Should I pull us off at Fredericksburg? It's only another two miles ahead."

Langly tucked the report inside a hidden compartment in the roof of the vehicle before joining Byers at the equipment. "Maybe. The signal's stronger now. It's Nemo time, guys." Holding onto the racks of equipment, he moved to the back of the van, dropping down the eyepiece for the periscope. Punching some keys to activate the distance calculation software, he scanned the lanes behind them. "There are three out there, Frohike, about a quarter-mile back."

The round-faced Gunman grinned. "No problem. These guys drive like little old ladies in Beantown." He slowed the van, dropping back until he was in a clear patch of traffic. "No reason for civilian casualties."

Langly rotated the eyepiece. "There's one on your left now, in the far lane."

Frohike steered the van until he had drifted alongside the black sedan, cutting slowly into the speed lane. Although the tinted glass kept him from looking the other driver in the eye, he delivered a verdict on his manhood with a piquant non-ASL hand gesture. The engine of the sleek car raced momentarily, then Frohike cut his wheel sharply to the left. Distracted and enraged, the driver of the low vehicle overcompensated, sending it skidding off the road into a tree.

Langly released his grip of the rack. "That's one, guys. I expect the others to use a few fireworks, now that we've thrown down the gauntlet."

Byers set the receiver to gigahertz, then turned the volume on the speaker to maximum before he climbed to the front of the van. Once there, he strapped himself into the passenger seat before he commented to Frohike. "I suppose it just gets wilder from here, right Bandit?"

Langly spun the periscope again. "They're both on your right bumper now, man, one behind the other in the center lane."

Frohike pushed the gas pedal to the floor, pulling the drivers behind him into accelerating. When Langly shouted the all clear, he moved into the center lane directly in front of the lead vehicle, still increasing his speed.

"Have they caught me yet?" He lifted his eyes from the road to the side-view mirror. "Tell me when they do, so we can play with their heads a little."

The long-haired Gunman nodded. After a minute or so, he shouted a warning. "Bogeys on your tail, man!"

Now the little man growled. "Let's see if these slicked-down boys are ready for the big time." Tapping the brakes once, he heard the squeal of radials behind them, then the crunch of metal colliding with metal.

Byers glanced in the side-view mirror. "That's two. You took out the one in the rear."

Frohike shifted into the right-hand lane again. "Highway billiards."

Langly focused on their remaining opponent. "They're bringing out the heat!"

The passenger window descended, then a semiautomatic rifle materialized outside the vehicle. The Gunmen heard several thumps as projectiles harmlessly struck the thick steel of the van sides and rear.

Byers grinned. "Buy American, now and forever."

Langly groaned, "Oh, bummer, man, they got the scope! Can you fly on instruments only?"

Frohike glanced in his side view mirror. "I can see him coming up beside me. I think he wants to play bumper cars. Hang on, guys, it's time we used the rest of our custom-built sixteen cylinders." He waited until the sedan's front fender was even with the back of the side door, then, accelerated slowly, forcing the other driver to concentrate on catching him, rather than taking over control of the chase. When Frohike had reached the maximum speed he considered safe to maneuver, he slammed on the brakes, setting the van fishtailing, but not skidding. The other driver overshot them, but retained control of the car, as the Gunman had planned he would fail to do.

Langly, having strapped himself into a seat behind Byers, was hanging onto the headrest. "Ooh, a MIB with wits. What's next?"

Frohike shrugged. "At least he can't aim backwards. Shall we give him a kiss?" Grinning, they waved in exaggerated romantic gestures as their driver pulled into the middle lane. He drove forward again, boxing the black sedan on the right. "I'm betting there are only two people in that car, so if we can keep them bottled up, we can,... Holy Mother of George!"

As they crested a hill, Frohike saw that the maneuvers had caught them back up to the packet of traffic in front of them. The van and sedan were approaching two gasoline tankers from the rear. He stomped on the brakes. They were moving too fast, so the van began skidding out of control, across the highway towards the forested center swath.

The sedan's driver reacted just as quickly, but with the damage to his rear brakes, failed to stop before slamming into the back of the right-hand container. The resulting fireball rose three stories in the air.

The Gunmen, however, were safely out of range. The skid had carried them off the road on the left side of the interstate, the descending terrain rolling the van over several times before it came to rest against a guard rail. In the back, the computer began beeping as it detected a police radar, but the sound was quickly lost in the wail of sirens.

-o-0-o-

End - Passages in Memory - Discovery


	2. Inventory

====o=====================================================o=====

_Passages in Memory_ by Mary Ruth Keller

Part II -_ Inventory_

=====o=====================================================o=====

Scully Residence  
Norfolk, VA  
Friday, January 31, 1997  
9:37 am

Leaning on the door frame, Mulder watched Scully dig in the medicine cabinet. The bedroom she had been given shared a walk-through bath with the one her Mother was using. Through the far door, he could see that Margaret had brought the pictures of all four of her children and her husband to arrange on the drop-leaf nightstand by her bed. His partner's room was furnished more sparely than the other, since it had been little John's, prior to his Aunt's arrival. One of the cherry ladderback chairs from the dining room set had been pressed into guest service for the duration, so stood just inside the hall door. Margaret had pushed the other nightstand from her room in for her daughter, positioning it under a small, uncurtained window.

The dark green chenille spread covering the narrow single bed Margaret had rented and set up for Scully, contrasted sharply with the folded patchwork quilt and the zoo creature wallpaper. Purple giraffes with pink spots, red and yellow striped zebras, pale blue smiling lions and orange chimpanzees chased each other in never-ending circles around the room, through a forest of palms and banyans. He had wondered how long it would be before the animals would disappear under the characters from _Reboot_, or whatever other kid's show was all the rage today.

Mulder reached out to touch his partner's arm. "Would it be easier if I told them?"

She stopped to focus on him. Scully was gratified by his consideration, but she knew she could not use their friendship as a crutch when it came to her brothers. "It would for me, Mulder, but that's not fair to you." She stared into the room behind him, studying the green vine pattern running across the vinyl flooring. "Val and Mom should hear this from me." Seeking reassurance and support, she looked up at her partner.

Hr nodded. "I understand, Scully; some things are for family to do." He rested one hand on her shoulder. "But I know you and Charlie aren't close..."

Gritting her teeth, she grasped the edge of the sink cabinet with both hands. "That's why I have to be the one to tell them. I have to convince them it isn't personal between Charles and myself." She reached for his wrist, pushing back the rolled-up sleeve. "Let me take those bandages off so you can shower."

Blinking, he tried to force a jest to form in his brain. But he found he was too numb from sleeplessness to do more than unbutton the shirt, then pull it off as they walked back into the bedroom. He had settled on the bed, so she dragged the chair over to face him.

Scully snipped and rolled, exposing the still-healing burn and bites on his arms and chest. At her silent command, he flexed and rotated his wrist and arm, watching for her nod of approval at his current stage of recovery. Climbing onto the mattress, Scully crawled around until she was kneeling behind him to remove the gauze on his right shoulder. As she probed the gunshot wound, he grunted. "That hurt?"

He swiveled carefully to speak behind him. "A little. It's mainly sore. So?"

She patted his left shoulder. "You'll be all right. No infections, no nerve damage to your hands. This will probably be the last time I have to swaddle you up, Mulder. What did you lift that was heavy?" As she touched the entry wound lightly, he struggled to remember, his forehead deeply crinkled. Mulder felt her weight shift as she leaned against his back, then he focused on the red smear on the finger she held in front of his face. "What?" She spoke the word gently in his ear, her tone one of concern, not accusation.

He sighed. "Mrs. Beddowes needed some help moving in a new television." Cringing, he waited for the lecture.

But she had moved until she was sitting beside him. _He'll never quit, so no point in beating him up about it._ "Well, at least it wasn't running across the roofs of buildings, chasing lights in the sky, Constable Fraser."

Smirking, he leaned into her face. "Ah, you can't resist a man in uniform, even if it is red serge, can you, Scully?" She pointed across in front of his nose at the bathroom door.

He shook his head, firmly grasping the straightened arm. "Your turn." Resigned, she unbuttoned and removed her wool suit jacket, draping it over the back of the chair before she sank onto the rattan seat. She watched him cut the tape and unwrap her hand and arms carefully before he growled at the weepy holes in her wrist. "You should be the one to talk. What did you have to move to find *it*?"

She pursed her lips. "Charlie didn't want anyone to know. I had to ..." They moved together so she could whisper the location in his ear.

His face darkened as he balled her bandages up with his, carried them to the bathroom, then tossed them, hard, into trash can. "So you shifted all that before calling me for my help?" As he sat across from her, he held her chin to keep her eyes focused on him. "Two-way street, Scully. Don't make me worry about you more than I already do."

She reached up to hold his elbow. "Sorry, Mulder. I'm too used to ..."

He frowned. "Pushing yourself on my behalf." He dropped his hands to rest on his knees. "I've watched you grit your teeth and struggle to keep up with me when I charge off on something. I appreciate and admire that courage, Scully, but it's time you stopped, so I'm not running off after lights in the sky, not anymore. We can't afford for either of us to wear down or come apart, not with all we have to face now." Straightening, he touched her shoulder. "Take it easy for a while, I'll be out shortly."

The rush of events over the last few months had settled into her body as a deep ache, that she ignored most of the time. But, today, after another night with no sleep, she felt nothing but numbness, so she nodded.

Her assent obtained, he pulled a pair of sweatpants from a Thalheimer's bag.

Scully could feel her weariness tugging at her shoulders, but her mind was still churning. _He's right. We do have too many enemies for me to try to do everything myself._ Now that Mulder was free of fear for his Mother, and certain he would find his Sister, he was centering his prodigious energies on their partnership and the expanded Section. Shoving her shoes off her feet onto the floor, Scully dropped into the pillows, cocooning the quilt around her chin. When he checked her with a quick glance before he entered the bathroom, she sent him a small smile that he returned with a lift of his eyebrows. _Miami seems forever ago. I'll just sleep for a minute._

-o-0-o-

Mulder rested against the cold yellow tiles letting the hot water pound down on his back, to relieve the pain/itch in his shoulder. _The old man was right._ They were trying to take better care of each other now, but he could read their deep-set fatigue in the thin face of his partner, in the lines he saw on his own, every morning while shaving. If the evidence in the basement indicated what they thought it did, the Shadows were recruiting more forces among the military, but to what end? Had the old men carried around so much knowledge in their heads that the new Group was forced to rebuild as it rediscovered what had been lost? Or had the invasion the Smoking Man told his Mother about suddenly assumed new urgency? He wanted to talk this over with Scully, so he finished quickly with his ablutions.

-o-0-o-

Interstate 95  
Friday, 11:37 am

State Trooper William Rice sighed, then swallowed the last of his cold coffee. The muscular sandy-haired man tossed the styrofoam cup in the trash before climbing behind the wheel of his brown cruiser. Having just been called to work a double shift, he wasn't too pleased at the prospect. _It's not the money. Little Alice seems to go through shoes like Kleenex. How did Mom and Dad raise all six of us on a longshoreman's salary?_ He would have to phone the babysitter, to make arrangements to keep his girl another few hours, until Carol could leave work. But that would be after he called in the fire, then checked for survivors. _I hate gasoline blazes._

He pulled off onto the side of the road, stepped out, then sighed again, the flashing lights on the roof bar reflecting in his sunglasses. From his vehicle, he could tell the flames had engulfed the cabin of the semi as well as the entirety of a large sedan. Wrinkling his nose at the stench, he opened the trunk to retrieve flares and cones for blocking the road. _At least the stands of trees in the center strip here will keep the rubbernecking to a minimum._

Rice waved to the Fredericksburg police as they arrived, with three fire trucks, an ambulance, and a hazmat unit immediately behind them. After set-up, the fire crew began applying foam to the blaze. _What's this?_ Down in a ravine, it looked like a black van was upright, resting against a guard rail. _That's new._ He trotted down the hill to peer inside, through the shattered front windshield. Three odd-looking men were slowly reviving.

"You folks all right?"

The bearded one rubbed his head. "Yes, we are, thanks."

Langly searched around for his glasses, exclaiming at the broken frame, while Frohike tried the engine, grinning when the motor started.

The officer persisted. "Did you see the accident?"

The men looked at each other and shrugged.

Byers climbed shakily out of the van to stand and face Rice. "Not really. The car to our right crested the hill at the same time we did, and we had to swerve to avoid a tanker truck ourselves, which is how we ended up down here. I guess the sedan wasn't able to stop in time, was it?"

Rice scribbled on his pad before checking the other two men. "Is what he says how you two saw it?"

Frohike nodded. "I was driving, so I was mostly concerned with where we were, relative to the other truck."

Langly pinched the right circle of his frames around the lens. "I was in back, so I didn't see anything."

Tucking the sunglasses in his pocket, Rice cocked his head. "You boys wouldn't be hiding anything from me, would you?"

"No, Sir!" A three-part chorus sang in unison.

The officer lifted an eyebrow as he flipped to a new page in the notebook. "All right then, let me have your names and addresses so you can be on your way." The trooper guided Byers back in the van with a touch on his elbow.

-o-0-o-

Scully Home  
Norfolk, VA  
Friday, 10:18 am

"Hey."

Reacting to the warmth of his hand on hers, Scully awoke. Her partner's spiky hair dripped, sending little rivulets down his bare chest to darken the waistband of the new sweats. The sight brought amused light to her eyes.

"Sorry, Mulder, you can't turn me to stone, no matter what you try in the Cosmetology Department."

One corner of his mouth twitched, but his eyes were intense, so she sat up while he slid the ladderback chair over, waiting for him to voice his concerns.

"Scully, what if the Shadows know or have found something out about the alien invasion my Mom told me was coming? Could they be recruiting for that?"

Chewing her lip, she worked through the evidence she had seen that supported his hypothesis. Finally, she nodded once and lifted her eyes to his. "Mulder, you may think I'm fevered or possessed when I say this, but..."

He leaned forward.

"Maybe."

He shook his head.

"I think you may be right, Mulder, because your idea answers the question that has been nagging at me ever since your sister supposedly came back."

Now, he focused on her fully, as the Hunter's eyes drew the explanation out of her.

"It's the same query you'll hear from any scientist or two year old: 'Why?'." After she tucked her feet under herself, she reached over to tap his hand, once, then again. "First, I'd like to apologize for some of the things I've said when we've discussed, no, *fought about* this, before. You're probably not aware of the depth of my fears, but after Missy died, I wanted to run back to the security of what was known and understood. When you were in the boxcar, I almost lost you because I didn't want to admit there might be a *reason* for all the tests on humans." She tried to clasp her hands in her lap, but winced, then placed them flat on her legs instead.

Concerned, he grasped her wrist. "Scully, if you need to sleep, we can ..."

Her chin firm, she shook her head. "It was more comforting to think we were dealing with some cruel attempt to torture our society's unwanted than to think it might be more. I still think that's true with the homeless virus, since Broadway seemed to be testing purely for profit. But, all the times we've crossed paths with the Shadows, it's been clear that the stakes are far greater than whether you find your sister, Mulder." She paused to study his face. _These aren't easy things for you to hear._

Still holding her wrist, he shifted to a more comfortable position on the hard seat. _We need to learn to air our differences without fighting._

When she saw he had remained eager and bright-eyed, she continued. "Since we found the D'Amato notebooks, I've been reviewing them, and our cases, trying to make sense of it all. But, no matter what I came up with, I still can't pull all we've seen together into one coherent picture. I've tried to square it all as just human atrocities against other humans, but that's not right. The test subjects are not the estranged or the underprivileged; they're just normal men and women."

He slid forward. "So, you've finally come to agree with me, that the alien abductions are real?"

Pursing her lips, she shook her head. "I've never agreed that all the probing and testing was by aliens, partly because, there's no reason for it." As he began to splutter, she slid to the edge of the bed and leaned into his face. "Please, hear me out, Mulder. A civilization would have to be very advanced to marshal the energy and resources necessary to build ships to traverse interstellar space. Once they had that, if they could solve those problems, what could they gain by poking Joe Six-packs' or Jane Housewife's reproductive organs?"

As she shrugged and settled back, Mulder expelled a breath. "Scully, maybe the whole purpose of their exploration is that they've lost the ability to have offspring!"

She rubbed her eyes. "But if they were having trouble reproducing, and their lifespan was similar to ours, they couldn't survive through the years to reach Earth! If they were that long-lived, their DNA would be as different from ours as ours are from that of a damsel fly! And even if that were their agenda, why us? There are other life forms on this planet that have multiple offspring far more frequently than we do."

He leaned back. "But, Doctor Ivanov suggested the aliens may be robots, so lifespan wouldn't be a problem. They could just fly from one star to the next, collecting samples of the sentient life-forms on the planets they encounter."

She shook her head. "None of the supposed abductees ever report seeing anything except humans on those spaceships. Why? Why Homo Sapiens? Gorillas and chimps are almost identical to us, genetically speaking. Furthermore, depending on how self-awareness is defined, a good case can be made for the cetaceans and the elephants."

He crossed his arms. "I don't see how this discussion is productive, Scully. We've been over this too many times, you and I, and we've always ended up at each other's throats. We should just drop it, right now."

Her shoulders drooped. _I'm not making myself clear to you, partner._ "No, Mulder, your idea of an invasion *is* productive. Don't you see, preparation to resist one is at least a *logical* explanation for all the covert activity and cover-ups; it ties together many of the things we've witnessed and experienced." She tipped her head. "The evidence from the MJ documents and the leper colony says, at the very minimum, that there were tests and experiments on humans for years and years." She looped her hair behind her ear.

He clenched his fists. "But that would mean you're admitting the government has known they were coming all that time."

She settled back against the wall. "Mulder, why are you surprised? Don't we know each other well enough by now? Why should I continue to deny the validity of the accumulation of evidence we have seen? I'm a Physicist; it violates the principles on which science is based to cling to incorrect or outmoded ideas in the face of overwhelming data to the contrary. There is so much your idea explains neatly. Take, just to name a few examples: whatever it was the Japanese had in that boxcar, what was done to me, and the report we just gave the Gunmen. Given those, I think I can safely say that someone with deep pockets and heavy security believes they must prepare for something exceptionally powerful and advanced headed our way."

He threw up his hands. "But the videotape, Scully. They clearly had an alien on that table. Nothing on earth has green blood."

She nodded. "I agree."

His eyes narrowed.

"Nothing does."

Both eyebrows shot up on his forehead.

"But, how do we know that we were watching a blood transfusion in progress? Why couldn't that have been a test to see how a subject's body behaves with something other than blood in its system? Do you know what tests are performed on animals in the name of medicine and psychology? It isn't only animals. We know..." She glanced out the window. "We know that..." She swallowed.

Understanding her discomfort, he leaned forward to continue for her. "The Nazi butchers tried similar experiments in the Camps."

Her eyes deeply sympathetic, she nodded. "I'm sorry, Mulder."

He shook his head. "It's okay, Scully. So, if you don't think what we saw on the videotape was alien, what do you think it was?" Mulder leaned against the horizontal slats between the seat's uprights, tipping the chair onto its back legs. _This should bring the conversation to a screeching halt._

Grateful he hadn't stormed out of the room, she touched his knee. "A genetically engineered super-soldier, Mulder."

Exasperated, he stood, ignoring the slap of the chair as it hit the carpet. "Scully, when we were arguing in Klemper's greenhouse, you wouldn't admit..."

Now she struggled to her feet as well, righting the upended furniture. "That genetic experiments were underway?"

He stood over her, nodding, worried by her deeply shadowed eyes.

"I meant then, in 1951." She swayed slightly, so he cupped her elbow as she settled on the chair. She waited until he had sprawled across the bed, facing her, then she continued. "Now with the advances in medicine, it's perfectly possible."

He frowned. "So you think the classified experiments to recombine human DNA are ahead of what is otherwise available?"

She sighed. "The medical procedures involved have been in use, in research, for about twenty years. It wouldn't take a great leap in technology to begin cataloging the human genome, just time and money."

He rubbed his face. "Which our adversaries have obviously had."

"If they had that data base we saw and could manipulate human genetic materials at will, then consider the possibilities, which brings me back to the 'why' question. We wouldn't need the super-soldiers they seem to be trying to create just to fight Soviets; we had atomic weapons and Mutual Assured Destruction to keep a balance of power with them."

His eyes glowing, he shifted upright on the bed and took her by her shoulders. "Scully, am I hearing you say what I think you are?"

Breaking his grasp, she rose, slid the chair away and hugged herself, unable to meet his eyes, speaking quietly to the wall behind him instead. "Yes, Mulder, you are. Based on what we have seen over the past five years, I am hypothesizing that about fifty years ago, some group with power and authority found evidence they believed pointed to the possibility of a future invasion of Earth. In addition, I postulate that this same group, or its successors, have been trying to develop defensive capabilities against such an attack. Their actions may be responsible for the woman who claimed to be your sister, the Eves, and the problems I've had as a result of my disappearance."

He gasped, reaching out to hold her. "Thank you, Scully." _I've convinced you, haven't I?_

She closed her eyes and gripped his arms before he could enfold her in them. "However, that doesn't mean I accept that the alien abduction stories are true, Mulder. I think we can both agree that what happened to you and to Sam was not a typical UFO encounter." She turned to look over for his nod before she began pacing.

_Hear her out, as you said you would._ He dipped his head once.

"My problem with those is two-fold. One, they are so terribly similar to 'recovered' stories of abuse from very early childhood, Aboriginal visions quests, and the accounts of Witches' Sabbaths gathered by the Inquisition, all of which were induced. I have to wonder if they aren't related somehow." They were both seeking common ground here, not a fight, so she stood in front of him, rocking slightly, waiting for his response.

He leaned towards her. "I know, Scully. I've studied all that stuff myself, and our new Skeptic has promised to hand over more reading material for my insomniac nights. It's been tough, trying to piece together my Mom's memories and what I worked out with my hypnotherapist."

She sat beside him, resting her hand on his. "I think that's because he didn't try hard enough, Mulder. I think you were hypnotized when Sam was taken, and given false memories to replace your real ones, either out of compassion, or to cover the kidnappers' identities, just as the old man indicated." When he began to turn away, she grasped his shoulder, softening her tone. "These are the same reasons you believe explain why I can't remember. But they took her, and I think it might be connected to aliens, only not the way you were programmed to think."

He focused on her intently. _But that's not all, Scully._ "Deep Throat told me 'they have been here for a very long time'."

She shrugged. _I never trusted him like you did._ "What does that marvelous cryptic statement mean, and who are they? How many are 'they'? One, two, twelve, one hundred and forty four thousand?" She moved closer. _He's taking this remarkably well, considering, Dana._ "Mulder, I saw the Pilot morph before my eyes and that creature who was supposed to be your sister dissolve before witnesses, so I can't deny that something not exactly human is loose here." Scully pressed her hand against the mattress, supporting herself as she continued to present her case.

He reached toward her, but dropped his hand when he realized she wasn't finished. _Scully, what you've just admitted..._

She focused on his eyes, her own gleaming intently. "But you need to ask yourself these questions. If they were already here in large numbers, given the technology they would have to possess to make the journey, why wouldn't they have succeeded in conquering us already? If it was one or two just watching, wouldn't they be able to do a better job of staying out of sight?"

Her cautious probing drove him to his feet. "What's your point, Scully?"

She rose and stood by his side, watching his jaw flex and relax. "My point is my other problem with typical abduction stories."

He huffed. "It's too close to what happened to you?"

She shook her head. "It was never that, Mulder. Where is the independent corroboration of the UFO, like radar blips or sightings by telescopes?"

He threw up his hands. "Gone, covered up, collected by the government, don't you see?" At her nod, he stopped, frowning in his confusion. "You *do* see?"

"Exactly, Mulder. As powerful as the Shadows are, they can't cover up evidence if an observer thinks he is witnessing something else, and treats the data as such. There are too many professionals and amateurs watching the sky all over the world, trying to be the first to witness a new astronomical phenomenon so he or she can put his or her name on it. They can't be everywhere at once." They stared at each other, one looking down, the other up.

"But?"

"But, for these typical abductions, very few are accompanied by reports of objects moving in the sky at the same time, and in the same place by viewers from different locations and vantage points." She watched him redden. "*But*, if, *if*, there is an invasion fleet on the way to earth, it should be trackable at night."

Shaking his head, he stepped away. "I don't follow you, Scully."

She sagged back into the chair. "Maybe we're both too wiped out to make much sense. Let me start over on this."

Waiting, Mulder watched his partner close her eyes, then frown in concentration.

Finally, she shook her head. "Okay, we'll try this approach." She rested her chin in both of her hands, with her elbows on her knees, so he lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs as he sat. "How did the astronomers search for the planet Pluto?"

He pursed his lips. "They looked for a dark spot that blocked starlight in specific portions of the heavens following the orbit the planet was predicted to occupy. But no one's looking for planet X anymore."

She dropped her arms into her lap. "However, they are actively looking for comets as we speak, Mulder, and they use similar techniques. Where do comets come from?"

He rubbed his face. _Why with the Socratic Method all of a sudden?_ "The Oort Cloud, beyond the orbit of Pluto." At her nod, he thought carefully. "And you suspect that one of the comet hunters would be the first to spot something large moving towards Earth from outside the Solar System?"

She lifted one corner of her mouth. "Yes, I do."

He cocked his head. "But what if they're moving faster than the speed of light?"

She stared at her hands for a moment before meeting his eyes. "Are we talking Cochrane Drives here, Mulder?" She arched a red eyebrow at him, watching him grin back. _At least we both have our senses of humor._ "If something *could* exceed relativistic limitations, it should still have an effect on the electromagnetic waves passing through it, either by distorting the spectrum or by translating the apparent source. There are an infinity of possibilities, but, it has to make a mark on the known universe; it won't just magically appear and disappear."

He tried to link his arms around his now raised knees, winced at the pressure the action placed on his burn, so moved over to the bed instead. "Okay, if there's really a fleet, despite the Shadows' activities, it should be detectable with existing resources." He sat in silence. "But how will we know that?"

She shrugged. "Monitor the astronomy groups on the Net? Send out carefully worded requests for information? Give Frohike some reason to surf the Web besides to download fake nudes of film stars?" Scully sniffed. "I'm sorry, Mulder, but I really need to shower."

He was staggered, both by the magnitude of the problems, and by the fact that his Skeptical partner was considering his theory so seriously. But, after the drive and the search, he was also numb, so he yawned. "Yeah. I'll just check out for a bit."

As she collected her clothes, she turned to look back at him. Her partner had stretched out on the bed, the damaged shoulder keeping him off the almost healed rib.

"Mulder?"

He tipped his head so he could see her without moving.

"If I were you, I wouldn't work myself up over this idea. I'd be, and you should be too, praying to whatever it is you have the faintest trace of belief in, that I'm wrong, and that this is all a flight of fancy."

He sobered. "Right. It wouldn't be 'Independence Day.' Anything that can traverse interstellar distances won't be stopped by lap-top viruses or F-16's."

Scully jumped as she inadvertently bumped the door frame with her hand.

-o-0-o-

FBI Lab  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington, DC  
Friday, 11:47 am

While standing behind her right shoulder, 'Charlie' smirked as he tapped 'Ace' on her left arm.

The brunette chuckled, then whirled to face him, smiling. "Drew! I knew it was you by your breathing! What fearsome beast brings you down to the murky depths? I could have met you back in my office on the fifth floor."

He grinned back. _You, who else?_ "'Finn' is being watched, and we can't figure out who is doing it. Have you seen anyone strange lurking around your place?"

She shrugged. "No, I haven't. What about you?" He shook his head. "Well, then maybe his cat-burglar days are numbered." She leaned over. "Could it be because of his art thefts?"

'Charlie' huddled close to her. "Possibly. Are you sure you haven't seen anyone around your place?"

She patted his arm, the contact sending shivers up his spine. "I can take care of myself, you know."

Speechless, he nodded. _But I want to look after you._

"Have you seen my latest special?" Grinning, she held out a finger, waiting while he focused on the thin wafer balanced on the tip. "It has its own internal CPU and memory, and when attached properly, draws its power from the phone itself. All the user needs to do is slip it inside a telephone receiver. There, it will monitor and record all calls, as well as the conversations in the room. If it is placed on either speaker in the hand-piece, it will remotely download data and receive instructions over the phone lines."

Charlie beamed. "What will you think of next, kid?"

She bounced on her seat, blushing at his praise. "I'm meeting 'Finn' so he can take this one to his interview with Matheson this afternoon. Want to come along?"

His face fell. _Always with the handsome ones._ "No, thanks, I just heard from Luther. I have to drive down to Stafford to meet with him; they messed up the tail on the Gunmen, and two of our guys are dead."

Sobering, 'Ace' shook her head. "It just keeps getting worse, doesn't it, Drew?"

He patted her shoulder. "We never thought it would be easy, but we'll do a better job running things then the Old Men were, don't worry."

Turning back to her lab bench, she slipped the wafer in a clear anti-static bag. Before he left, he mussed her hair, but her focus had returned to her work. She waved absently over her shoulder when she heard the door open.

-o-0-o-

Scully Home  
Norfolk, VA  
Friday, 11:37 am

Scully stepped out of the shower, pulled on her sweats and a short-sleeved light blue T-shirt, then rolled up the cuffs so they would clear the bites. Her concerns that the low-fat diet she was on would retard her skin's recovery had been alleviated by observing Mulder's progress on a daily basis. His rate of healing was nearly identical to her own. As she glanced in the mirror, she smiled at the reflection of the silk-screened design on the front. Just last week, she had custom-ordered this, a big-eyed, contented penguin with a bulging stomach, _full of herring_ sitting with its webbed feet splayed out before it.

When she opened the door, her gaze fell on her partner, supine on her bed, his arms at his sides, one bare foot sticking above the leg it was across and resting on. _I hope Val doesn't see us like this. We both look like we've been hit with shrapnel._ A casual observer would have concluded by the closed eyes and limp posture that he was asleep, but she knew that, prompted by their earlier conversation, his mind was racing from one possibility to another. As she sat on the edge of the mattress, the box springs creaked.

He opened one hazel eye, then rolled upright, concerned she was massaging her left shoulder. "Let me take care of you first, Scully." He gingerly grasped her wrist, then moved her right arm until it rested across his large hands. He rubbed the gunshot wound lightly with his thumb. "How does it feel?"

She shook her head. "I hate the admit this, but since Val's not equipped like I usually am, and since I was out of gauze before I left DC, neither of us can take care of the other until I make a supply run."

He closed his hands around her arm. "But does it still bother you?"

She nodded. "I hope between Fortner and the testimony of his employees, Halberstam's put away for good, Mulder."

He frowned. _That's not what I meant._

Reading his expression as discomfort over the old memories their previous case had dredged up, she tried to sooth him. "Perhaps you won't have to go down there and be put on the spot again."

He shrugged. "Whatever it takes, Scully. I don't feel like I'm such a failure as a human being anymore, not like I did at his first trial."

She lifted her arm to rest her hand on his shoulder, her face forming into the purring expression that usually preceded a joke. "You're not, and you should never feel that way about yourself. Admittedly, your behavior and theories sometimes makes me wonder whether I shouldn't sample *you* for alien DNA, but you're no failure, Mulder."

Chuckling, he gently grasped her wrist to lower their hands into his lap, where he ran his fingers over the holes on her arm once before releasing her. "Thanks, I *think*. So, how long do you think it will take?"

"Hum?" She slid off the bed, sat in the chair, and reached into her bag for her shoes.

"How long do you think it will take to find out if there's an army headed our way?"

Scully looked over as she pushed her feet partially into the black walking shoes, then down at the laces before she tried to tie them. As she grasped the heel, the flexing and twisting cramped her bitten hand, so she stopped to cradle it in her lap for a moment.

Frowning, her partner slid to the end of the bed, lifted her foot onto his knees, then continued for her. _You should have asked, Scully._

She considered protesting, but, more interested in sharing her thoughts and ideas, chose to continue their discussion from earlier. _He only wants to help._ "Well, the universe is vast, Mulder, about forty billion light-years across, and we haven't seen any indication of intelligent life from the stars close to us."

He glanced up at her green-blue eyes. "Yeah. Billions and billions of light-years, and no patterned radio sources such as we've been sending out since 'The Green Hornet' and 'The Lone Ranger'. We haven't heard anyone broadcasting to the semi-evolved life-forms that the secret is to..."

Smiling, they spoke together. "Bang the rocks together, guys."

He set her foot down then hoisted the other, adjusting the tongue as he slid the shoe onto her heel.

She frowned. "After Chiapas and for different reasons, I'm sure, neither of us really accepts the idea of 'Ancient Astronauts'."

He nodded. "So we're left with the reverse SETI problem. They have to know we're intelligent by our transmissions of _My Mother the Car_ or _Peyton Place_ and decide to check us out or eliminate us based on those messages."

She lifted one corner of her mouth at the thought. "Right. Although, if they're out there listening, I'd prefer to think they were receiving _P__layhouse 90_ and _The Ernie Kovaks Show_ myself."

He placed the foot, in its laced shoe, on the carpet, before balancing his weight on his hands, pressing down on the mattress on either side of him.

She rose slowly. "In either case, they'd be no further than 65 light-years away."

He crossed with her to the door. "But the ones who are here, what about them?" She glanced up at him. "As I mentioned earlier, we don't really know how many are here, but they'd have to be working mostly on their own."

Mulder nodded, shifting his weight to lean against the wall. "That's one of the benefits of living in the unfashionable arm of the Milky Way, Scully, no interstellar traffic jams. Do you want me to come with you on this medical run?"

Her eyes traced the droop in his shoulders. "No. I could have spared us this if I had thought about supplies in Lynnhaven, rather than looking at clothes, but all I was thinking of was carrying around enough bags so *it* would be camouflaged." She went to her briefcase for her cell phone, carrying away her suit jacket, which had been folded neatly on the floor. "It's too early for the Gunmen to have returned home, but if we might conflict, I'll let the phone ring six times before I expect an answer, okay?"

His eyes narrowed. "You're sure you want to go alone?"

She tucked the unit inside her jacket. _You are such a fuss-budget, partner._ "Yes. Besides, someone has to watch out for Val and my Mom, now that there are two 'men' around the house, Mulder."

He sent her on her way with a lopsided grin and a toss of his head. "Okay." He returned to the window by the bed, waiting until she left. Afterward, he watched for a car following her, but when he saw none, settled back on the bed with a sigh. Briefly, he considered crawling under more covers than the quilt before he drifted off again, the variegated padding only warming his feet and legs. _Cell phone._ He pushed himself off the pillows, then dug the unit out of his jacket pocket to rest it on the bedside table.

-o-0-o-

Senator Matheson's Office  
Washington, DC  
Friday, 1:03 pm

Senator Richard Matheson lifted a blue folder off the table, then with his arm extended, crossed the room to greet his candidate, "Mister Lindhauer, welcome! Have a seat, please."

The two men made themselves comfortable on the facing sofas in the front part of the office. The Senator mentally compared his limber, well-muscled physique with the long, spare frame of the blond man across from him.

"Thank you for agreeing to consider me, Sir."

Matheson waved his hand. "Nonsense. You have connections to Wall Street, and we Democrats don't want to be seen as unfriendly to Big Business, not this term. Senator Randall wrote you a glowing recommendation, and I want to maintain good relations with my Esteemed Colleague from Texas." He smiled. "For the next four years, we servants of the people, regardless of which side of the aisle we occupy, have some serious business to attend to." He glanced down at a blue folder on the table between them. "When will you start with us? Next week?"

Lindhauer nodded. _Tomorrow, if I could._ "That would be fine, Sir. I've moved to the Hill, so you can call me at any time, day or night."

"Good. I look forward to seeing you then."

Another aide appeared in the door. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"The students from the new handicapped school are waiting in your outer office, and the photographer just arrived."

Matheson nodded, then turned to Lindhauer. "If you will excuse me."

"Of course, Sir." He caught sight of the clear crystal decanter on the side table. "May I have some water before I go?"

Distracted by the children in wheelchairs, Matheson shrugged. "Certainly."

Lindhauer waited until the door closed before lifting the nonstatic bag out of his pocket.

-o-0-o-

Scully Home  
Norfolk, VA  
Friday, 1:27 pm

Little John Scully raised his wooden train off the living room carpet, but dropped it as the sound of a second shower rumbled through the ceiling. When it ceased, he moved closer to the stairs, attempting to listen to the quiet conversation between his aunt and her part-ner, or Fox, as Gamma called him. He recognized Aunt Dana's quick, precise steps, but hid behind the sofa, waiting until he heard the outside door close, then the part-ner's car engine turn over. He sat, his eyes wide, wondering about the strange dark-haired man he had seen only briefly with her. They had been in the basement, but now she was gone, so he slipped out of the living room. He knew how to creep silently around grown-ups, and Mommy and Gamma had talked so much about the part-ner he was curious.

One step at a time, he pulled himself up the stairs, then padded to his room. He slowly turned the knob on the door to peer at the bed. _There he is, and he's *naked*! He has funny spots on his arms and chest._ In the same laborious manner as his ascent, the toddler climbed down, calling for his Mother.

When the Pomeranian yapped at the commotion, Margaret, drying her hands on the dishtowel she had been using, stepped from the kitchen into the hallway. "What is it, John-John?" She tucked one corner of the terrycloth in the waistband of her khakis. "Mommy's at the hospital with Daddy." Picking the boy up, she balanced him on her hip, as she had four children and nearly as many grandchildren before him. Trotting over to sit at her feet, the Pomeranian wagged his tail at his playmate, high overhead.

"It's *Fox*." The child's legs swung as he struggled with the colliding images. "He's *naked*!"

Margaret failed to conceal a small grin. "No, John, I doubt that." She, too, had heard the running water, then had waved her daughter off, so she had a fairly good idea of why the boy would think his Aunt's partner was undressed. "You run along and play. I'll check on Fox."

The toddler's eyes grew wide. "He's on the bed! They're not married!"

She set him on his feet and lifted one of his rubber balls off the floor. _I won't even try to explain what I don't understand, little sweetheart._ "He's probably taking a nap, just like you do when you're tired. Aunt Dana and Uncle Fox were working in the basement all night long. Why don't you play with the doggie for a while? You throw the ball and he'll chase it for you, watch!" She rolled the green and purple striped sphere down the corridor.

The little canine, who had struggled up and down the stairs after the child, obliged happily. John followed the Pomeranian as fast as his short legs would go.

Margaret smiled. _At least he doesn't have the 'whys' today, or the poor man would never get any rest._ After climbing the stairs she knocked softly, but the wooden door, shrunken in winter's dry air, was loose enough that the latch slid out of the frame. It swung open. The bruising on his side had nearly completely faded, but the gashing and tearing in his shoulder and arm, as well as the burn, shocked her. "Oh, Fox." Margaret's hand flew to her mouth. She crossed to the bed to bend over her daughter's battered partner, speaking his name once.

_How many times did it ring? I'd better check._ Groggily, Mulder reached for the cell phone, then held it to his ear, opening his eyes only upon hearing the dial tone after he punched the answer button. "Oh, Mrs. Scully, hi." He grimaced as he sat up.

Margaret settled at the foot of the bed. "I'm sorry." She patted his knee. "I didn't realize how bad it was for you and Dana until I saw you just now."

Chastened, Mulder pushed himself off the mattress, retrieving and donning his navy canvas shirt before settling into the ladderback chair. He responded in the coarse, flat voice of one awakened from a deep, needed sleep. "It's not so bad." He tried to smooth his hair down with both hands, but the spikes kept popping back up. "We're okay, just tired."

Margaret crossed to the front window Mulder had watched Scully leave through, speaking without turning to him. "I've heard that from both of you more times than I should have these past few weeks." She spun around. "If I can be honest with you, I think you're both working too close to the edge right now."

He forced himself to his feet. "There's too much happening for us to stop, Mrs. Scully. I wish we could take a long break, but we don't dare."

She walked over to him, gripping his waist with both her hands. "I'm not nagging, Fox, but I *am* worried. I care what happens to both of you, you know."

He nodded, still lost in sleep and too tired to speak anymore. When Margaret linked her arms around his back, Mulder enclosed her shoulders with his own, leaning heavily against his partner's Mother before he could stop himself.

"You startled little John-John, you know."

Stepping away, he sagged onto the mattress, then rubbed his stubbly chin. "Sorry, didn't mean to hare out the little guy." He glanced at the white band of skin around his wrist. "How long has Scully been gone?"

She frowned. "I don't know. Why?"

Sliding off the bed, he reached for his cell phone, then tapped the first speed dial button. Two rings. At her answer, relieved, he resumed his seat.

"Scully."

"It's me. You okay?"

"Sure, Mulder. I M-ay B-e E-ast I-n N-o G-ood T-ime A-lthough I L- eft E-arl's D-oor open."

"Okay. Just drive carefully."

"Right."

He terminated the call, hugging himself as he paced.

Margaret walked over to stop him with a hand on his arm. "What is it, Fox?"

He focused on her face. "She's being followed, Mrs. Scully." Mulder rubbed his eyes.

Margaret shuddered. _I wish this was all a bad dream._ "What has Charlie gotten himself into?"

Restless for his partner's safety, he shrugged.

They headed into the hall, Margaret wanting to check on her grandson, Mulder leaping down the stairs to station himself by the front window in the living room.

When he heard his car pull into the driveway, he crossed the carpet to open the door for her, guiding her inside when she was within arm's reach. "You okay?"

She nodded, looking from his face over to her Mother's as the older woman entered, clutching John by the hand. "Mom? We may have to head back to DC later on today, but, please, try to convince Charlie not to attend those meetings he had announcements for."

"Why?" She looked to her partner for support.

He nodded, stepping close to her. _It's now or never, Scully._

She pushed her hair behind her ear. "We've been investigating some of the groups sponsoring the meetings, and while they claim to be concerned for the welfare of America, they have another, more dangerous agenda in mind."

Margaret crossed her arms. "Is this something you and Fox have worked out, Dana? Just because you and Charlie have never seen eye to eye on anything ..."

Mulder shook his head, watching the little boy peek at him from behind his grandmother's legs. "No. It's a free country, Mrs. Scully. We'd like to see it stay that way. There's a special FBI task force still investigating Oklahoma City and looking closely at those groups." He looked down at his partner. "The Miami Police have tied the man who hurt Scully back to them as well."

As he spoke, Margaret noticed the protective way he closed the distance between himself and her daughter without touching her. _He really would lay down his life for her._ "All right, I will." She frowned at their drawn faces. _I've seen those tired eyes far too often._ "Enough of this. You two can't be Steed and Emma if you fall asleep standing up. I *will* start nagging if you don't scoot upstairs and rest before you leave."

-o-0-o-

"Think she'll talk to Charlie?"

Scully cut the gauze, then laid the scissors beside her on the bed. She had settled him in the chair to give her easy access to his shoulder. "My Mom always does what she promises. How long before we hear from the Gunmen?"

He shrugged. "The way Frohike drives? It should have been an hour ago." At her nod, Mulder held out the other arm.

After she had wrapped it, the cell phone buzzed from the side table. They both waited, counting the rings according to a simple prearranged code that would foil any would-be eavesdroppers. Three rings. Mulder and Scully glanced at each other. _They're home._ A pause, then three more rings. _They were followed._ Another pause. Two rings. _They're all right._ Scully worked in silence, finishing off the other arm and the shoulder quickly.

As Mulder wrapped and bandaged her, she yawned. "You can use Val's bed, if you like, Mulder, but Mom's right. We should sleep before we start out. We'll probably talk ourselves into heading right for the Gunmen's when we return to DC."

Nodding, he dropped the supplies back in her bag, then yawned as well. "See you." He listed slightly as he crossed to the door, trying to think up a more appropriate exit line, but failing.

Scully waited, but all she heard was the click of the door latching across the hall. _No ribaldry. He must be beat. Sleep well, partner._

-o-0-o-

Scully Home  
Norfolk, Virginia  
Friday, 4:58 pm

"Scully." The buttons on the cell phone felt strange. As she awakened, she realized she had answered her partner's, rather than her own.

"For your own safety, Agent Scully, turn the document over to me."

As she pushed herself off the mattress, she growled at the cool voice on the phone. "And what document might that be?"

"Don't be coy; you haven't had the same practice as your partner. We both know what report I mean."

Scully looped her hair behind her ear. "We don't have any files that would be of special interest to you." She slid off the bed, heading for the door, wanting to waken Mulder for this.

"But you do, Agent Scully."

As she opened the door to Val's room, she saw him stirring. When she caught one red-rimmed eye, Scully mouthed 'X' at Mulder. He held out his hand for the phone, so she passed it over, while dropping onto the edge of her brother's bed.

"What do you want with us?" He curled over his bent knees while she watched.

"Greetings, Agent Mulder. As I was suggesting to your partner, you *must* turn the report in your possession over to me. This information is of more than academic interest, and I warn you, it has caused the death of several. Don't add yours to it."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Your concern touches my heart. I wish you had possessed such warm feelings for me on Christmas. But, we don't have it."

"*Agent* *Mulder*! Now is not the time for lies! The time will come when my warnings will cease if you do not take them seriously!"

Enraged, Mulder terminated the call, snarling at the darkened display. "Right. Why do you always come at your convenience, not mine, then?"

Scully stood beside her partner. "We should head back now."

He nodded. "The guys have had the chance to work *it* over, Scully. Besides, the longer we stay here, the more danger we place your family in. I'm afraid we've made targets of ourselves."

Crossing back over to her bedroom, they changed out of the sweats they used for sleeping. In the barest nod to propriety, Scully stepped into the bathroom with her khakis and a thick red cotton sweater, while Mulder clipped tags and pulled on stiff new denim. When he was ready, he tapped the door once, so she emerged. Neither was much concerned with appearances, only with expediency.

-o-0-o-

I-64  
Approaching Richmond, Virginia  
Friday, 7:03 pm

"Mulder?"

He glanced over at his partner. "Hum?"

"We can't just vanish this time."

He passed a Winnebago before replying. "I know. As much as it bothers me, we need to tell Skinner and Matheson about this before we head out."

She studied his sober face carefully. "I expected an argument."

He shook his head. "No, not on this. I have to think about marshaling our resources for the future, not just the problem of the moment. Skinner covered for us on the Homeless Case, and, in many ways, the expanded Section is due to Matheson's influence."

Scully was startled. "How do you know that?"

He sighed. "It would take that kind of pull to suddenly promote us from being the FBI's most unwanted to a semi-independent Section. We both know he's seen to it that Skinner's far more visible than he was before Chiapas."

She stared at her lap. "The success we had with the Homeless Case was all the justification he needed, then." She crossed her arms. "So it was always all politics, not our success rate or our investigative skills."

He puzzled over her statements, then shook his head. _The best FBI Agent ever, remember, G-man._ "Hey, Scully, don't think you didn't earn it; you did, if anything, just for putting up with me all these years." They locked eyes. "But, I'm determined to make the most of it. Look what we've accomplished once we started working together closely. If we can build a successful team with our two new agents, then we may be respectable enough to stay out of the Basement come the next election." He arched one eyebrow. "Besides, four desks down there will really cramp my shooting style."

She chewed her lip. "You still think putting Nichols and Rosen below will make them bond?"

He shifted in his seat, wondering at her reluctance. "You don't? It worked for us, and you only shot me once."

She lifted her chin. "Well, it's worth a try, anyway. But McConnell said Randall wanted to dismantle major government operations this term. He implied in parts of the FBI, Mulder."

"I don't think he'll come after the X-Files, even though he may have promised the folks back in Amarillo he would eliminate the Bureau, just so they would pay his way to DC. The plans to expand overseas have made it out of the Justice Committee. I could always declare Vlad the Impaler a case so we can check out Bucharest, Scully."

The Look would have peeled paint.

Mulder smirked, mentally holding up a white placard with 10.0 in bold black letters on it.

"*Mulderrrr*."

He concentrated on the broken white line as he rated the intensity and menace in the barely audible growl. _Clean sweep, G-man._

"Well, perhaps you're right. Or maybe figuring out how the government makes a decision is an X-File in and of itself."

He grinned at her joke. "Nah. Chaos theory, pure and simple."

"No wonder it's broken. So, which of us tells Skinner?"

"RHIP, Scully, your turn. He grilled me about the Section yesterday."

"Okay, what are we telling them?" They exchanged a glance.

"Just that we have a classified document we suspect contains information about covert government activities, and that certain organizations aren't very happy that we do."

She dropped her voice into her teasing purr. "Well, considering what happened the last time you two 'talked' about our possession of sensitive files, I should probably *volunteer*."

"*Sculleeee*."

She focused on her hands. _Looks like we're even, partner._ "And if he asks for more?"

They spoke together. "We're looking into it." Grinning, each thought how good it felt to be clicking like this, while he steered the Camry into the exit lane.

-o-0-o-

Skinner Home  
Falls Church, VA  
Friday, 9:37 pm

After Mulder parked the Toyota on the street, the partners walked up the driveway to the home Walter Skinner shared with his wife. It was she who answered the knock, then stepped back to usher them in.

Before Sharon indicated they should turn, Scully glanced down the entrance hall, catching a glimpse into the dining room. The house was what she expected from an ex-Marine, tastefully furnished with sturdy, clean-lined walnut tables and subdued tans and greens in the upholstery and drapes. On the walls were brightly colored silk fish banners. While she didn't remember her Father mentioning such decorations from his time in Vietnam, they were certainly reminiscent of that lush green country.

The Assistant Director rose as they entered the living room. Having just stoked the flames in the rust and white sandstone fireplace that was the centerpiece of the main room, he was replacing a poker in the stand.

Mulder was used to only seeing his boss on the job, so the jeans, Rockports, and plaid flannel shirt were a surprise, but just for a moment. _Everyone has downtime, G-man._

Their boss focused on his partner as he walked over to them. "Agent Scully! Agent Mulder indicated you might be away for quite some time. How is your brother?"

"He'll be fine, Sir."

After waving them toward one of the sofas, Sharon took her husband's hand. "I should be back from my run in about an hour, Walter." After his gesture of assent, they exchanged the perfunctory kiss and small smile of a comfortable, long-married couple.

Scully stopped to nod at her words. "If you wouldn't mind, Sir, we would like..."

The four left the house. After they watched the slender, graceful brunette disappear around the corner, Skinner turned to his subordinates. "Agent Scully?"

She glanced at the ground before replying. "We may have found a government document that explains some of what happened to me, Sir."

Narrowing his eyes, he studied first one face, then the other. "Is this one of your little escapades, Agent Mulder?"

Scully shook her head. "No, Sir, it was found by someone my brother commanded." She quickly filled him in.

Focusing his full attention on her, he listened. "So where is it now? In a bank vault?" He glared at Mulder. "Or do those three ..."

The tall agent found himself responding. "Yes, Sir. They brought it back earlier today, and we wanted to touch base with you before we headed over to tell Senator Matheson about it."

Skinner shook his head. "Don't bother. He's probably still at his office, so I'll phone him after you two leave." He began to turn, but called back over his shoulder. "Good Luck, and whatever you have planned, just give me a general itinerary before you take off."

They returned to Mulder's car, driving away as the front door opened, spilling a shaft of light out into the night.

-o-0-o-

West Chase Apartments  
Laurel, Maryland  
Friday, 9:27 pm

In the illumination from behind her, 'Ace' could make out the face of her friend, so smiled as she greeted him.

"Drew! What brings you to Maryland?

Stepping inside her apartment, 'Charlie' surveyed the interior. Every flat surface in his colleague's efficiency was covered with electronics or computers, either assembled or undergoing upgrades. His eyes finally came to rest on what he considered this dwelling's most attractive feature, its occupant. He grinned. "A lovely lady who shouldn't be spending her Friday nights all alone. Whatcha-up-to?"

Frowning, she padded back to her dining room table. "Just setting up this dual Pentium motherboard so I can run it with two others. I've had an idea for a new encryption algorithm, but the code I've written cries out for parallel operations, so I thought I'd try something simple first." She pulled out a chair for him, then moved the plastic off the open chassis as they talked. "So how come Mister Bigshot isn't out on a hot date himself?" She grinned at him before twisting her shoulder-length hair in a loose knot to keep it out of her face. _I really need a haircut._

"Oh, you know how it goes, sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you don't."

'Ace' picked up a #0 Phillips screwdriver before bending over. The shrunken grey wool sweater gaped at the waist, away from the jeans faded almost to white.

'Charlie' glanced quickly at her skin, then swiveled his chair to bring his face near hers.

His closeness unnoticed, 'Ace' winced. "Yeowch!" She bent her head forward to rub her spine. "This table is just too low to be a good work surface, but it's where I have the best light. It kills my neck to double over like this."

He grasped her shoulder. "Hey, take a break. You can't work all the time." 'Charlie' stood behind her. 'Here, straighten up and drop your chin forward on your ... chest." He began massaging her neck, eliciting a deep sigh.

"You are really the sweetest guy, Drew. I wish there were a thousand like you."

He was glad she was facing away from him, so she couldn't see him flush with pleasure at her words.

Just then, one of the computers started beeping. She lifted her head. "Someone's calling Matheson."

They walked to one of the machines on the living room sofa, where they watched words scroll by as Skinner relayed Mulder's and Scully's message to the Senator. When the call finished, the two Shadows stared at each other.

"Drew, we'll need to alert 'Finn' and 'Andrew'."

'Charlie' nodded. "We'll have to decide whether to send in a team for the document or not. I think we can still call up the black units from Quantico if we need to. It's time we stopped fooling around. If Mulder and Scully put this up on the Net, we run the risk of exposing everything."

The pair grew solemn as they focused on each other's faces.

-o-0-o-

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Friday, 10:23 pm

"You guys look terrible! What happened to you?" Mulder dropped his hand to Scully's back, ushering her into the front room, both relieved to have the long drive over.

Langly regarded them woefully. He had repaired his frames with a loop of fine wire, threading it through holes he had drilled on either side of the break, then twisting it shut at the top. "The van almost bought it, Doc. Some of those government types must want the report, bad. We were chased by three fleet sedans up '95."

Frohike, his face swollen and purpled on the right cheek where it had contacted the steering wheel, nodded. "We would have been away clean had they not encountered a full gasoline tanker."

Mulder was deeply concerned. "I didn't want you guys to be hurt working on this. We left the Scullys to try to keep them safe, but I should have thought ..."

Byers stepped forward. "No problem, Mulder. This is as important to us as it is to you." He had pressed two dishtowels into service for a sling, but held the partially restored document in his free hand. "This makes for very interesting reading, I assure you. If you can verify some of the details in here, it would be more devastating to the Shadows than MJ probably was." He opened it to one of the pages that had been completely blacked out. "It seems Iowa and West Virginia were central collection points, and test subjects deemed sufficiently undamaged were usually shipped to the West Coast for relocation."

Taking the report from him, Mulder flipped through the document. "Does it say where?"

The bearded Gunman shrugged. "I still have about fifty pages to go. Langly had started it, but with his headache, he didn't need to spend his Friday night sniffing acetone. I expect to be finished in the next few hours, if you'd like to stay."

Both agents nodded.

Scully put her hands on her hips. "Have any of you seen a doctor?"

They grinned.

Mulder leaned over her shoulder. "They are now, Wendy. Still glad you flew away with me to the Lost Forest?"

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, one at a time. Byers, you first. I need to determine if this a sprain or whether you've dislocated your shoulder." When Frohike drooped visibly, she glared at him. "I'll take care of you next, just hang on." As Langly and Mulder smirked at each other, Scully guided Byers over to the kitchen and began untying his sling. "Mulder, would you pull my bag out of the trunk?"

Nodding, he turned to pass through the vestibule.

-o-0-o-

Capitol Hill  
Washington, DC  
Friday, 11:12 pm

At the ringing of the doorbell, Lindhauer trotted down the stairs of his new row house, stepping over the still-packed boxes from his move, then flicked on the exterior light. Through the peephole, he saw 'Charlie' and 'Ace' outside, so he unlocked the door, nodding a greeting as they entered hurriedly. "What's news?"

As 'Ace' took a seat on the couch, 'Charlie' stood guard by the door. "We've called 'Andrew,' and he should be here shortly. But that wire you planted in Matheson's office had already proven its worth."

"Oh?" Lindhauer looked over to 'Ace'. "How?"

She met his eyes. "We know Mulder and Scully have the report. I surmise from the conversation they've already turned it over to the Gunmen for analysis, which means that shortly, they will be deciding to put it up on the Web, or something else equally foolhardy."

Lindhauer began pacing. "We can't let this work be exposed, not without a good cover story. The Old Men were caught flat-footed by the release of the D'Amato notebooks, so we need to think."

'Charlie' nodded. "That's why 'Andrew' is late. Black Lung had instructed us to work over all the old remaining materials after MJ was hacked, and he's bringing a few copycat documents with him for us to decide which to release to the clueless media before our adversaries have that opportunity."

At a knock, three heads turned towards the door. Lindhauer let it bounce off the stop, revealing McConnell standing without, a thick black satchel in his hand.

'Charlie' grinned. "I was just filling 'Finn' in on the plan. What do you have?"

McConnell plopped the bag into a leather armchair. "Well, we can choose from evacuation plans in the case of either nuclear attack, thousand-year floods, or, and this is clever, massive simultaneous west and east coast earthquakes. All are written to be nearly identical to the real report."

When 'Ace' began laughing, 'Charlie' smiled at the sound. "What's so funny?"

She grinned back. "Oh, I think we should go for the simultaneous earthquake scenario."

The three men focused on her, but it was 'Charlie' who took a seat close beside her, leaning back to accommodate his expansive belly. "Why?"

She shifted over to reestablish her own space. "Because it might actually make the East Coast take the threat of a major earthquake seriously. We're overdue, you know."

Lindhauer stood in front of her, sucking in his stomach to swell his chest. "You mean it's not a joke?"

Oblivious to 'Charlie's' disapproving glance, McConnell settled on her free side. "Not at all. We were taught the best way to hide the truth is among a pack of lies, and if we use the earthquake, then there is truth either way. The East Coast suffers from magnitude eights about every one hundred years, the last having happened in Charleston, South Carolina just before the turn of the century."

'Ace' nodded. "So, it is a legitimate concern, but the media are all such idiots, they'll start interviewing different experts, and write up conflicting stories, all of which will camouflage the report if the FBI does let it go."

'Charlie' slid over closer to her. "Besides, nuclear holocaust isn't much of a threat anymore, and no one worries about flooding in February. But earthquakes will catch everyone's attention. So, we are agreed then, we release this." He held up the report. "It will preempt whatever Mulder and Scully do, rather than wait for damage control."

'Ace''s brown curls and McConnell's red ones bobbed.

Lindhauer wanted to hold onto whatever leadership he still possessed over the group. "I'll take it to a reporter friend of mine. She's been plying me for some good secret information for a couple of months now." He snorted. _Maybe, if I play it right, I won't be alone for the rest of the night. After all, the real thing is always better than the videotape._ He held the door as the others left his row house, McConnell giving him a significant stare as 'Charlie' patted 'Ace' on the back.

-o-0-o-

Lone Gunmen's Office  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Saturday, February 1, 1997  
2:42 am

Mulder stopped relentlessly changing channels as his partner slid onto the couch beside him. Seeing her rubbing her eyes, he reached over to grasp her shoulder momentarily.

She smiled slightly at him. "Thanks. Byers is done with the report, and we've uploaded the page images to an encrypted file. I really don't know whether we should publish this on the Net or not, Mulder."

Most of the past few hours he had been contemplating this exact problem, so he dropped the remote on the cushion. "I been debating that myself, Scully. The Shadows were caught totally off-guard when we threw the D'Amato papers up on the Web, but they've had nearly a entire year to recoup their losses. Even this new group probably expects us to make a similar move, so they've no doubt developed a discrediting strategy that will make us, Skinner, and Matheson look like fools if we do."

She tucked her feet under her hips, rubbing her arms to warm them. "Whatever they come up with, you know it will be better than the old weather balloon story."

"Right." He studied her face. "What?"

She passed him the print-out she had carried in with her and dropped on the couch at her side. "It's this map, Mulder. Whenever I read the list of towns on the Northeast route, I think I remember them, in that order, being called out."

He slid closer to her, his finger running along a triple-thickness black line. "As if you were on a train?"

She nodded. "I've never taken a passenger train, except for that one time last year with you, so all I can think is that I *was* transported along that route for part of those three months I was missing." Her body clock was revolting against the lateness of the hour and her out of sync sleep schedule, so she yawned again.

When her eyes focused on her partner, he had leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, the map dangling between two fingers. He was frowning at the infomercial spokesman, who was gibbering silently as he waved a wok over a gas burner. Mulder was deep in thought, she knew, not contemplating the 1-800 number on the bottom of the screen, so she touched his arm.

He turned to her, passing her the map. "Scully, I know you probably won't think this is a good idea, but I'd like to hypnotize you."

She plopped against the upright bolsters, resting her head horizontally on the sofa. "Why? I've been to a professional hypnotherapist, and learned nothing from it."

He punched the power button, then the screen faded to black. "I know, but at the time, you were rested and didn't really trust the man, did you?" As she nodded, he threw both arms over the back of the couch. "A hypnotic memory block, such as they gave you, feeds on your strength. The stronger you are, the more secure the block. The weaker, the less. Since you've been remembering in your sleep again for more than two months, it means it is beginning to fail. Right now your circadian rhythms are off, so we might be able to reach through it and bring out some of the memories they stole from you."

She rolled her head back and forth on the upholstery. She had not taken the time earlier to shape her hair into professional stiffness, so the loose strands curled in waves. "But, when they worked on you, they gave you drugs, Mulder, and you haven't been able to remember anything you saw at Ellens. Owch!"

Since one fiery lock had caught on a zipper tab in the cushion cover, he shifted in place, needing both hands to gently work it free. _Sam's hair was always tangled up on something, if she didn't keep it braided._ "Right. They've sealed those few hours off as if they never happened. However, it's likely they didn't give you anything chemical simply because it would have messed up the tests they wanted to perform on you. You've had both nightmares and flashbacks, so I think we have a chance here, if we approach the subject properly. What do you remember from your session with Dr. Pomerantz?"

She shrugged. "Only that I was so alone, and that there was no one I could trust, even though they kept telling me it would be all right, and that I could trust them." She sighed. "Sorry."

He waved his hand. "No, no, that's all right. If multiple regressions contribute to the creation of false memories, then it's good you didn't recall anything then. It means whatever you remember will be uncontaminated by his suggestions, and it's why I've tried to just listen when you have nightmares." _But it tears me up inside, Scully._ "Between what you've said in your sleep, and the medical evidence from your surgery, I think we have a good idea of some of the procedures they performed on you. Are you willing to give this a try?" He waited, his expression supportive, anxious, and eager, but uniquely Mulder.

Scully found herself smiling. _He wants to help, Dana._ "What do we have to lose? Likely as not it will be just a waste of time."

He blew out a breath. "Okay, let me talk to the guys. We'll need to close ourselves off for a while." He stepped into the room where the Gunmen were still working.

Byers was tapping the screen. "No, Langly, we should add another encryption layer just in case we're hacked again. Right, Frohike?"

While the little man nodded, Langly's long hair swished, the motion forcing him to reach up to hold his damaged glasses. "We need to move the binaries to a different file structure, so it becomes total garbage if addressed improperly. Even with the encoding, we should swap bytes, then reencrypt on the Alpha, rather than the Mac. Oh, hey, Mulder."

"Is there a room upstairs Scully and I can use for a while?" He frowned at the total silence from his three friends. _Yeah, right._ He rolled his eyes. "The report has triggered some vague memories, so I'd like to try regressing her to get back to her abduction."

Frohike grinned. "Had us going there for a minute, Mulder. Yeah, our library should be just the place. It's small and you can set up a couple of chairs." He jerked his head in the direction of the flight of stairs. "At the top and straight back." He looked down at Mulder's shoulder as Scully's face appeared beside him. "Good Luck. I hope you learn something."

The two turned to head to the upper level, their feet pounding out random thumps as they ascended.

-o-0-o-

Old Town, Alexandria  
Saturday, 3:03 am

X watched as the light faded from the third floor window. He had to give the Gang of Four credit; they had learned well. One of the fake documents was now in place, so Mulder and Scully could not pull a repeat of last year's surprise. He spun to begin walking down to the Potomac waterfront.

As he listened to the soft lapping of the water against the docks and walls, he considered his own position. His old superior was supposedly dead, shot on New Year's Eve. Or was he? It had not been the Gunmen who had been tailing the Gang earlier, even though *they* had thought so, and had set Luther's clowns after them. X walked on, buttoning the wool long coat up to his neck. Out of long habit, he glanced over his shoulder, looking for movement in the darkness, a black on black figure slipping behind him.

_There._ His shadow was keeping his distance, the amorphous shape molding to the hollows in the wood and stone. He had always believed in the rightness of the Cause, and had even let himself be tested. Proudly, he had given sample after sample of his gametes once his genetic ancestry had been traced to the Masai. As he thought of those tall warriors, he smiled. Yes, they would beat their enemies back, with the resources that had always been available to the human race, brains and hands, as manifested in knowledge and technology. He checked again.

_Behind the trees._ However, the last time he had been tested, six years ago, the DNA had shown an abnormality, so he had been asked for no further samples. It was after that he had begun to see the hovering figure behind him, an image from a nightmare given horrible manifestation. Sometimes he saw a face in the shape, always that of one of the great enslavers of humanity, Stalin, Idi Amin, or Rhodes. When the old man Mulder referred to as "Deep Throat" had told him of the FBI Agent's beliefs, X had begun to follow his career, secretly at first.

But when Scully had been sent to the Basement, then the Smoking Man had made tracking Mulder his assignment, he had found himself acting as the partners' protector. _One of several._ He wanted to help the X-Files agents in their search, so that they could continue to find answers.

A delivery truck waited for him to cross the street, then the crouching thing behind him was gone. He had seen it too many times, in the day, the night, when he was jogging, or when he was walking down the streets of the District, for him to think it just a figment of his imagination. _Yes, keep Mulder alive, by playing this double game as he had before._ It was good that he had the foresight to spare Charles Scully's life; otherwise, the man's sister would have become his implacable enemy. As close as the two agents were, to injure one was to damage the other, so by sparing her further pain, perhaps he could one day bring the thing behind him to their attention.

-o-0-o-

End - Passages in Memory - Inventory


	3. Journey

====o=====================================================o=====

_Passages in Memory_ by Mary Ruth Keller

Part III - _Journey_

=====o=====================================================o=====

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Saturday, February 1, 1997  
3:14 am

Mulder and Scully stood just inside the doorway.

"Well, it is too small for anything." Mulder knew if he held his arms out straight, he could touch the walls on either side with his fingertips.

A tiny table was jammed in the far corner, with old issues of the Gunman piled on it. Along the long axis of the room, bookshelves ran to the ceiling; on them, Scully noticed volumes with titles like _The Jesus Conspiracy_ or _Alien Sightings around the World_. She felt Mulder's elbow brush her back as he returned from one of the bedrooms with a second chair. As she walked to take a seat, she noted it was oak with elaborately turned legs and scrollwork arm rests.

Scully's forehead wrinkled. "I don't know how much good this will do, Mulder."

He pulled the metal folding chair at the table out until it faced hers.

She remained on her feet, staring through the one dirty window opposite the door, at the glow from the street light as it was scattered by bare tree branches.

He gazed up at her, worried by the sharp angles in her cheeks, then closed his eyes. _This is your fault, G-man._ "It's hard to say unless we try, Scully." His eyes flickered at hers. "Usually a therapist specializes in childhood traumas or, abductions, so they shape and direct the questions to their field of expertise. I have no prior knowledge of what happened to you, outside of the things you've said in your sleep, nor do I have any specific direction I want to push the session towards, anymore. We both have come to agree that you were in the hands of the Shadows' doctors for most of those three months."

As the silence lengthened, she turned and stared at him, aware that a year ago, that admission would have been impossible for her partner to make. "Mulder?"

He had stopped to cover his face with his hands as he sat. When he looked up at her, his eyes were glistening. "Sorry. We've both been so rational about this, I was a little overwhelmed just now by what I've asked you to do." When she took a seat in her chair, he tried to smile, but failed.

She moved it a little closer. "It's okay. I know what you're thinking, Mulder, and I'm not resisting because I'm afraid of what I'll find out about myself; I've had two years to work through that. I want to know what was done to me, for so many reasons, but I just don't have the same faith in hypnosis you do."

He crossed his arms. "But Scully, it *is* an established technique in psychological analysis, even if it's sometimes misused."

She rubbed her eyes. "I know. But it was pointless the last time I tried, and that was with a professional analyst. You've never hypnotized anyone before, have you?"

Shaking his head, he regarded her sadly, so she placed her hand on his arm.

She softened her tone. "But, I trust you, and I've seen enough working with you, that I think we should follow your instincts on this one." She leaned back, pressing against the upright spindles. "If you think anything we might learn would be too close to what happened to Sam for you, then we don't have to try."

Bowing his head, he dropped his arms to his knees. "Yeah, that's part of it. Losing you the way I lost her, and now this." He chewed his lip. "No. We have to try. The only eyewitness for both you and her is locked inside your head, Scully." He took a deep breath then sat up straight, resolved. "How did Pomerantz put you under?"

She frowned. "He talked about holotropic breath work, but it was like no breath-work technique I've read about. He rambled on and on, as if that would put me at ease. He kept reminding me about a safe and comfortable place I could return to if the memories were too bad."

A small grin tugged at one side of her partner's mouth. "Well, that's out. I'll never put you under by talking at you, since that's usually how we keep each other awake when sleeping is too rough." While she remained pointed at the door, he scooted his chair forward until his knees were beside her hips before he extended his arm. "We'll try this. Let me have your hand, the one without the bites."

"Mulder!" She regarded him quizzically, but placed hers in his.

He grasped it gently, mindful of what was under the gauze above her wrist. Resting the palm flat on his own supine hand, he began stroking the back with his other. Mulder was attempting to achieve a monotonous rhythm as he repeatedly ran his fingers from the wrist down to the fingertips, over and over. He thought he had been successful when her eyelids drooped and closed, then her head fell forward.

But she shuddered and jumped. "Sorry, that's putting me to sleep."

He hunched over to catch her eyes. "That's what I want. Let yourself drift off."

She sighed, then settled back again, relaxing at the repetitive motion. Initially, her arm was rigidly held out, but as she faded, more of the weight transferred to his hand, until it was so heavy it was nearly resting on his knee. As their hands descended, her shoulders slumped again, then her head rolled forward.

Mulder finally felt she was prepared for questions. "Scully?"

"Hum?" Her voice had a dream-like quality.

"Where did you like to be most when you were a kid?"

Her answering smile softly dimpled her cheeks.

Mulder realized, with delight, that the reduced version she favored him with as she tried not to respond to his jokes was much similar.

"At my Grandfather O'Shea's house. He had a big back porch with tall wicker furniture. There were these deep red cushions in every chair or two-seater that were so comfortable for reading, and I loved it. He wasn't much of a housekeeper after Grandma died, so it was dusty, and the white paint kept flaking off, but it was cozy and sunny. Mom would let me read for hours out there."

"Good. Remember how it smelled."

She took a deep breath. "Like books and rattan. And old horsehide glue. Since his hobby was bookbinding, there were fat spools of red thread and parchment for end-papers all around."

He slid his hand out from under hers, feeling the warmth he had transferred to it through his jeans. "Think about the scents. Concentrate on those." He continued to stroke, over and over, trying to beat down the envy he felt that she had such pleasant memories to fall back on, while he had only long nights filled with loneliness and loss.

"Mum-hum."

"We need to go forward, Scully, to a very uncomfortable time, but always remember the books, rattan, and glue. You'll be safe as long as you smell those, all right?"

"Okay."

"We need to go forward to when Duane Barry..."

She frowned. "I don't want to be locked in. Let me out! I want out! She pushed the air with one shoulder. "I can't get out."

He gritted his teeth for a moment. "Remember, books and rattan. Horsehide glue."

She breathed deeply. "I'm in a helicopter. I hear the rotors beating the air. I'm still all tied up and I don't know why. What have I done? What did I do wrong?"

He shuddered. _You trusted me, Scully._ "Where are you now?"

"I can't tell."

"Is it dark in this place?"

"No."

"Are you afraid?"

"Yes." She was whispering now. "I can't trust anyone here."

"*Who* is there, Scully?"

"I can't tell."

"Are you blindfolded?"

"No."

"Are your eyes covered?"

"No, I can see everything." She shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"Yes. I'm not wearing any clothes. It's only a sheet. They only gave me a sheet, and it's so cold."

"Who only gave you a sheet?"

"I can't tell."

"Why? Can't you see them?"

"I can see them."

He frowned. _This is going nowhere fast._ "Okay. Can you describe where you are?"

"I'm in a white room. There are bright lights everywhere. But..."

"But what, Scully?"

She twitched as he spoke her name, so, stroking a little more rapidly, he crooned softly to her. "Smell the books and rattan."

She inhaled. "I'm safe here." The tiny smile of joy again.

"You were in a white room with bright lights. Can you tell me anything else about it?"

"There is equipment all around me."

"What kind of equipment? Medical equipment?"

Her head began to sway from side to side, in a repetitive, anxious movement. "Yes. I'm being monitored."

"Can you recognize any of it?"

Now she froze. "I can't tell."

"Are you in pain?"

She pinched her eyes shut tightly. "Yes."

"Why, what are they doing to you?"

"I can't tell. I keep saying that. Why won't you listen? I can't tell anyone anything. Stop asking me questions!"

He hummed to her. "It's okay if you can't tell. Did they ask you not to tell?"

"They made me promise."

"How did they make you? Would they hurt you if you told?"

"No-o." The soft voice was full of fear.

"Would they hurt someone close to you?"

"Ye-es."

"Just one person, or more?"

"Just one. Mo... Moh..." She shuddered again, then he leaned forward.

"They would hurt your Mother?"

"No, not Mom, they need her."

He was horrified. "Have they taken your Mother to the white room?"

The rolling head motion again. "I can't say. But they won't hurt her. They need her to be undamaged, perfect. For control."

It was all he could do to continue in a level tone of voice. _How far back do the tests go?_ "Then who was it?" He would normally have used her name, but it had startled her before, so he refrained.

"Meh..."

Mulder licked his lips. "Melissa? They would hurt Melissa?" She shivered so he crooned again. "You're all right, you're safe, remember, horsehide glue, smell your Grandfather's porch."

Her deep breath was broken, jagged, as the past and present wrestled in her mind. "Not Mel. They can't hurt Mel anymore." She reddened. "They can't hurt Mel anymore."

"Then who was it?"

She clutched his thigh, digging deeply into his muscles with her fingertips. "Mulder!"

He gasped.

"They would hurt my partner. They've already taken so much from him. I can't let them hurt him anymore. I won't tell, and they won't hurt him anymore. They promised. I can't tell!" She pulled the hand back to hug herself, rocking on the seat. "I can't let them hurt my partner."

He began to reach for her, but stopped. He had to know. "What would they do to your partner? Can you say that?"

Her eyes still closed, she nodded. "They would take his memories of his sister. If they take those, his life has no meaning; he lives to find her. He *has* to find her; he *needs* to find Sam. I have to promise. I can't tell!"

Both of his fists were clenched, so he knew he was as emotionally drained by this as she. _It's enough, G-man._ "It's all right. You're safe again, Scully."

As she heard her name, her eyes flew open, then she began to leave the difficult trance state. "Mulder. He has to be all right. I didn't say anything."

Since she was blinking and gasping, he lifted her to her feet to focus her, wrapping one arm around her waist tightly to conceal his own shakes. "I'm all right, Scully. They haven't hurt me, and I'm looking for Sam, every day."

She tried to read his eyes. "What do you mean, Mulder? What did I say?"

He sobered. "You don't remember?" When she stiffened as she shifted her weight off her partner, he released her, supporting her under her arm until she was steady.

"No." Scully settled on the oaken seat again.

Mulder knelt in front of her, desperate to communicate the information from her session. "I was right about the mental block, and you were right about the brainwashing."

"What did I say?"

He held her by both shoulders. "That they made you promise not to tell anyone anything important by threatening someone close to you."

"Was it Mel, Mulder? Did they kill her because I pursued MJ with you?"

Dropping his hands to his knees, he shook his head.

"Then, who, Mulder? How did they make me promise?" The green-blue irises contracted as she thought. "Mom?"

His hoarse whisper startled her. "No, Scully... me."

She stared into his deeply troubled eyes. "They've tried to turn us against each other before, Mulder. What would they have done to you? Did I say? Would they have killed you?"

He wrapped his arms around her calves, then pressed his face against her knees. _You did it for me, Scully; you promised to keep silent, to lose those months and endure those nightmares, all for me. Why? How did I come to mean so much to you even then?_

Scully saw his shoulders were shaking, so she stroked his hair. "What? Would they have hurt Sam? Tell me, please?"

He whispered without lifting his face to hers as she bent over him. "They would have taken my memories of her, so I never could have found her and brought her home, Scully. It would have been a slow death of who I am, and to never see Sam again would torment my Mom."

She wanted to console him, but his arms were locked tightly around her legs. All she could do was form her own into a circle below the curve in his spine and rest her head on his ribs. "This is beyond horror, or even comprehension. I'm so sorry." They continued to comfort each other, until Mulder could breathe without shaking, then, he released his tight grip on her.

He rocked back on his heels, unable to meet her eyes, clasping his hands in his lap. "They take you as a warning to me, and threaten me as a warning to you."

Each was deep in thought, Mulder staring at the dull blue carpet on the floor. _Just as they took Sam to silence my Father, they use me to silence you, Scully._

She chewed her lip. _If I do remember, can they still take your life with Sam from you, Mulder?_

He shrugged. "You also said something about your Mother being used as control."

She nodded. "Of course, a control group."

He sat back in the chair. "What?" He needed to focus, to take his mind off Sam and his partner's sacrifice. _For me!_

"When one conducts medical experiments, Mulder, usually the subjects are split into two groups, a test group, whose members are given the drug or undergo the treatment, and the control group."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "That's left alone for the duration of the study, to see how the disease or a normal life progresses. Right. I should have guessed."

She grasped his arm. "This is enough, Mulder. Let's go downstairs."

He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. I won't be able to sleep for the rest of the night." He opened the door, then stepped back, waiting for her to walk by.

She stood still as she looked into his face. "Are you sure you'll be all right?" She could read the pain there, despite his denial.

He blinked. "I have to be. If I think about how easy it would be to surrender in despair, I'll never find her. At least I know my memories of Sam are some threat to them still." Mulder grasped her shoulder. "Thank you."

"Why?"

"For, for..." He stared out the window, looking down into her concerned face when the turbulence within his mind ceased. "For staying with me, Scully." He held his arm out as he forced some levity into his tone. "After you, fair lady."

She narrowed her eyes, but nodded. Since he would deal with this in his own way, later, either through insomnia or grief, she would watch him through time. He was, after all, her partner, her closest friend, and part of their relationship was wrapped up in keeping him from plunging too deeply off the edge. Scully patted his side before she turned to walk into the hall.

-o-0-o-

Scully Home  
Norfolk, Virginia  
Saturday, 9:07 am

As he swung the cast and his good limb through the front door, Charles Scully was almost toppled by his toddler, who had wrapped his short arms around his Father's one working leg. The officer chuckled at the repeated cries of 'Daddy!' "Hey, how's my little man?"

Margaret steadied her son while Val tugged on John's shoulder. "Let Daddy be, John-John. When he's settled in bed, you can climb all over him, little monkey."

The small group progressed slowly up the stairs to the boy's room, where Margaret eased her son into the bed her daughter had so recently vacated. She and Val had worked out, given her gravid state, and his cast, that it would be less traumatic to keep Charlie in John's room, so John would sleep with his mother until his little brother was born.

Once Charles was comfortable and Val took John downstairs to 'help' fix lunch, Margaret felt duty-bound to keep the pledge she had given her daughter. She pulled the chair beside her son's bed. "Charlie?"

The red head rotated. "Yes, Mom?"

"Dana wanted me to warn you about this meeting you were planning on attending next week."

He sighed. "Oh, Mom, don't you start that again."

Throwing her voice into that 'Mother knows best' tone, she took his hand. "Charles, Dana and Fox have both told me some of the groups sponsoring that meeting have been linked by the FBI to Oklahoma City." As he pushed himself upright, Margaret adjusted the pillows.

He sighed. "I'm not surprised to hear that. The FBI has been 'investigating' many things, but not the right ones. The groups I've seen have been only concerned with making this a better country, and if that means changing the way it runs, well, fine, that's what we'll do."

"Charlie! Do you know what you're saying?"

He nodded. "I do. Look, we gave the Republicans a shot; they had twelve years in the White House, six in the Senate, and two more with total control of Congress, but they didn't really change anything. Now the Democrats are back in charge of both the White House and Capitol Hill. Do you think it will be any different from the previous fifty years?" He fiddled with the sheets. "No, those groups the FBI is investigating are the only ones with the country's best interest at heart. I'd like to take John with me to the next meeting."

Margaret stood. "But he's only a little boy! He won't remember anything fifteen minutes after you come home!"

Charlie shook his head. "Mom, he's my son, if you don't mind. I'll raise him as I see fit. It's time he played with boys his own age, rather than being cooped up in the house with you and Val all day long." Grinning, he took her hand. "Besides, he's a little corker, isn't he? You and Val must need a break."

As an image of his antics with the Pomeranian came into her mind, she smiled back. "Yes, he's as bad as certain little boys I remember chasing their older sisters around the dining room table."

He laughed. "Well, Mom, maybe the next one will be a little girl, just for you. We could name her after her grandmother and her Aunt Melissa, if that would help."

Margaret knotted her hands. "Charles, worry about this baby now, before you have any others. You're not in any contest with your father or your brother, you know." Mother and Son regarded each other, the beginnings of an old argument stirring.

Charles Scully, sensing Margaret's fear, backed down first. "That was only because Dana kept teasing me, Mom. 'Catch me, Charlie!' and off she would go." He frowned. "She used to drive me nuts. Where is she?"

"She and Fox left for DC last evening."

"Did she find something in the basement?"

Margaret nodded.

"Oh. It must have been important then." When his Mother shook her head, understanding dawned. "In my own house? They've tapped my home?" He grew grim. "There's something really wrong with the government, if they come in and tap a man's house when he's just following orders."

She shrugged. _I wish I knew, Charlie._ As she left the room, she reached for the light switch, toggling it to save electricity. _You never let go, do you, Margaret?_

-o-0-o-

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Saturday 9:19 am

Langly flicked the lever on the automatic coffeemaker in the kitchen, then stepped quietly behind Mulder, who seemed transfixed by the CNN newscast. Whatever they had learned from Scully's hypnosis session both elated and frightened the tall agent, but he had refused to discuss it with Byers, or the Gunman to whom he had always been the closest, Frohike. However, Scully seemed oddly relieved, so was sleeping peacefully on the sofa along the front wall.

"Agent Mulder?"

He turned, surprised that the blond Gunman would address him so formally.

"Do you feel like talking?"

Mulder glanced over at Scully, then nodded. Outside of her, these three were the closest friends he had, but they wouldn't understand, not about this. The Gunmen were vital for backup when dealing with the overwhelming technology available to their shadowy enemies. They were indispensable for covering their backs when they were operating outside the support of the FBI, but he was stunned by what he had learned upstairs.

Mulder stood to walk around the couch, to reply in a whisper. "Can you set up a secure phone line for me?"

Puzzled, Langly nodded.

The two men padded down the hall, then threaded their way through the racks of equipment, piles of technical manuals, and computer parts in the large room that was the 'office' section of the house.

When they reached a long lab bench, the blond Gunman began hooking cables from one blinking box to another, stopping only when he had created a different, intricate web that baffled Mulder. "Well, G-man, that should do it." He tapped the monitor on the Alpha. "We've written a tele-networking program that will reroute your communications every two minutes, or at whatever time interval we specify. You'll hear two clicks during the conversation, but that's just the old connection dropping and the new one picking up. The clicks will follow rapidly, since we've developed a pulse that will send an immediate disconnect command. After the phone call is initiated, the software calculates a new, more complex route for the line to travel, so it can evade successive attempts to follow your signal to source or destination. That way you can talk as long as you want."

Mulder nodded, not exhibiting his usual impatience with the technical details. "Let me give you the number." He trotted out of the room, returning with his black address book. The agent dropped the small binder on the bench, flipped it open to the pages tagged L, then pointed.

The blond Gunman grinned. "This will be a workout. Do you have any idea how many routes there are between here and the Mediterranean?" Curious, Mulder stared at the windows open on the screen, until Langly noticed his interest and began to explain the display to him. "Actually, it was the Doc who gave me the idea in the first place. We were speculating about the similarities between the way the brain stores information, and the way telephone signals are routed."

Mulder's cheek twitched, then recited her words from memory. "A thought is a discrete path traveled by electrochemical signals through the neurons in the brain; likewise, memories are stored along a chain, rather than in a fixed location. By having a near infinite number of combinations of neurons and path lengths, the brain can hold vastly more data than any set of computer chips or hard drives of similar sizes."

"She's been talking at you, I take it?"

He nodded. "Stakeouts, Langly. When she can't handle my theories about alien involvement in the JFK assassination to slow the push into space anymore, I get 'eddecated', whether I need it or not."

Chuckling, Langly waved at the world map that filled the bottom half of the screen. "Anyway, this map shows the general route the signal is following. You might want to keep an eye on that just for your own amusement." The Gunman pointed at a counter in the upper right hand corner of the screen. "That monitors length of time of the call in seconds, down to the nearest ten thousandth. It's more precision than the phone company uses when calculating length of call for billing purposes, and *way* more than the routing controls are accurate to."

Mulder tapped the blank window in the upper left corner of the screen. "What's that for?"

Langly shrugged. "Location and transfer codes. It also tells us if anyone is trying to eavesdrop on the call." After he tapped in the number, they watched the phone beside the computer until it buzzed once. As Mulder lifted the receiver to his ear, the Gunman patted his shoulder, then headed out of the room. The extremely sorrowful look on the tall man's face haunted him as he closed the door to give his friend some privacy.

-o-0-o-

Lowenberg Residence/Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Santorini, Greece /Alexandria, Virginia, USA  
Saturday 4:27 pm /Saturday 9:27 am

Caroline Lowenberg answered the phone on the second ring, pleased and startled by the quiet voice greeting her. "Fox? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mom."

_He sounds so tired._ Caroline sank into the white lounge chair by the phone stand. "Is Dana all right?"

Fear and loss darkened his features momentarily. "Yeah." He sighed. "Um, is Max there?"

"Certainly. Let me call him in for you. Hold on, dear."

Waiting, Mulder watched the counter on the screen tick off the seconds. When 119.9999 rolled back over to 0.0000, he heard the click, click of the changing call, then faint sounds of waves as his mother and stepfather reentered from the outside.

"Mulder?"

Now the agent found his sleepless night had driven all sensible words from his head. "Max?"

The older man recognized the urgent need for approval and acceptance in his stepson's inflection, so settled into the same chair his wife had used. "I'm here, Mulder."

"Uh, don't tell Mom yet, but I think I've found out something about Sam."

_That's not why you called, Mulder._ Max found he wanted to use 'Son' rather than 'Mulder' in his thoughts, but sternly reminded himself that the title had to be earned. _For you, you troubled soul, the earning would be harder than for most._ "It's good to hear that. Can you tell me anything over the phone?" He had played this role with Isaac an age ago at the camp, and now, his wife needed all the gentle voice, supportive touches, and welcoming ear he could offer. _One more Podhowitz, more or less, doesn't really matter._

"It's not definite yet, but Scully..." A strangled sound escaped him. "Scully..."

"Take your time, Mulder." Max pointed at the workman, who was waiting at the back door, his grey wool cap in hand, so Caroline walked out to finish supervising the delivery of six new Cedar trees. "Your Mother had to step outside. Is Dana really all right?"

"Yeah." Mulder bit down on his lip. "We've just found out that when she was abducted..." Click. Click.

Alarmed, Max stood. "Mulder! What was that?"

The sound focused the Agent. "Oh, that's just Langly's rerouting program. Every two minutes it restarts the call so we won't be traced."

The white-haired man resumed his seat. "All right. Go on."

"Sorry, Max. I should have warned you." Mulder sighed. "When Scully was taken, before they returned her, they blocked her memories by threatening to take mine of Sam if she told anyone too much."

Max gasped. For a moment, he was an emaciated, half-naked victim, but pushed the image firmly away. _He's drifting in fear and uncertainty. Anchor him, Maximillian._ The older man deepened his voice, infusing it with all the conviction of a successful older hunter. "They're monsters, Mulder. They learned well from their masters, and they've used their skills on you and your partner."

"Oh."

"They've worked out the one thing that would devastate both of you utterly, and turned it into a burr, working its way deep into both of your psyches. Fight back, Mulder. Don't let them beat you, not now."

"Yeah." As the agent deciphered both messages his stepfather was transmitting, a glimmer of hope broke into the younger man's voice and thoughts. "Max?" Click. Click.

"Yes?"

"Tell Mom, all right?"

"Sure. Call anytime you need to talk and can do it in safety, Mulder, none of us are abandoning you, not anymore. Even truth-seekers wear down sometimes, but you and Scully need each other to be able to survive. She already trusts and respects you utterly, and so do I. You can depend on her, and she needs to know she can count on the same from you."

"Oh."

"That's enough, though. You two together will make it. All right?"

A long silence punctuated the conversation.

"Yes. Thanks. Thanks for believing."

"Sometimes that's all one can do, Mulder, Good Luck." Now the clicks were true disconnects on both ends.

Caroline stood over her husband. "What did he say?"

Max took her hand. "He's chasing some information on Sam, but mostly he needed some reassurance and support. I have the impression that neither of them has fully recovered from the past two months." Standing, he draped an arm over her shoulders. "Besides, I know how a quest can burn inside you until there's nothing left. It almost happened to me when I was retrieving the antiquities from Bolivia, and he can't let that happen to either of them. The stakes are far higher than they ever were for you or me, Caroline."

She nestled happily under his chin. "You didn't have a chance to tell him what we've discovered?"

"No. He's in the middle of something important. There will be time enough later, dearest." He kissed the top of her head. "How much did Nikolas try to overcharge you by?"

"Max!" They smiled at each other as they walked off, her hand tucked in the crook of his arm. Her new husband, ex-corporate lawyer, was quite the dealmaker, or so Caroline had learned in these past few months.

"Well, let's go see these trees that are as mighty as King Solomon's." Max slid the glass door open for his wife, then stepped aside for her.

-o-0-o-

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, VA  
Saturday 9:31 am

Mulder twisted the door knob, so Langly could enter, terminate the program, then begin unweaving the Gordian knot of cables.

The blond Gunman grunted at several number sequences on the screen. "They were trying. See this?" He pointed to what appeared to Mulder to be a random string of characters that repeated periodically. "Your report must be as hot as Three Mile Island, man."

The agent ran a hand through his hair. "Then the routes on the map are still in use, or else they wouldn't be after us like this. I need some air."

Langly straightened. "The Doc should finish catching her Z's, but she'll castrate us all if we let you out of here alone, Mulder."

His eyes brightening, the dark-haired man regarded him contemplatively. "Yeah. I can guess her choice of surgical tools, too." Stepping into the passageway, the two men debated a choice of destination quietly while lifting their coats off a rack of Shaker pegs on the wall.

Despite their efforts at stealth, Scully's red hair popped up above the armrest as her partner stood, unlocking the door. "Mulder?"

He crossed the short distance between them, crouching to bring his eyes level with hers. "It's okay, Scully." He forced a tiny grin, then grasped the arm that was tucked over the blanket. "Langly and I were heading up to the local Giant for a minute. If we don't, it's two percent only for the low-fat Doctor Scully."

"All right. Let me pull on my shoes." As he bent closer, she pushed the blanket away.

Langly caught the tremble in his friend's long hands as he rested them on his partner's shoulders.

Mulder disguised his fear with a jest. "We'll be fine, Mom. No one takes on a 23rd level wizard in broad daylight."

Grinning, Langly took his cue. "Right, Doc, and don't forget all the eighth level rhyming spells."

Scully read her partner's face. _He's still upset about the hypnosis session and needs some time, Dana._ "I'll hold down the fort here. But be careful."

Langly noticed the look of profound despair as Mulder hovered over his partner, adjusting the blanket to cover her exposed white foot, so the Gunman stepped outside.

Mulder's voice dropped to a whisper. "You too, okay?"

Scully reached out to touch his shoulder.

Mulder closed the distance faster, wrapping his arms around her, rocking her to banish the myriad fears, both old and new, that flooded his soul. Scully forced herself to relax as he held her, hooking one arm over his neck to rest her head on his shoulder. She hoped their closeness would drive away his demons. But, despite her intentions, the warmth of his body and her fatigue allowed sleep to steal in and reclaim her. Her heavy lids drooped shut just as they had in the tiny room upstairs.

Mulder lowered Scully to the cushions, pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, then walked out the entrance.

After Langly locked the door, the Gunman waited to speak again until they were clear of the red brick two-story house that was their residence and publishing center. "May I ask what you learned upstairs?"

As he walked along, Mulder scanned the sidewalk. Patches of dirty ice, still unmelted from the previous weekend, covered parts of the concrete, so the two men were forced to pick a safe path as they progressed. Langly was about to nudge his friend, but Mulder spoke without meeting his eyes. "I always thought that at some point I would have to let Scully go."

A gust of wind made them both shiver, and long blond hair flew in Langly's face, so he flipped his head to move it aside. "You mean when you find Sam?"

Mulder bit down on his lip. "No, Scully and I are too close to split over that. When I bring Sam back, it will be like I'm whole again, and then... " He stopped in mid-stride, forcing Langly to spin on his heel.

"What?"

The tall man was staring off in the distance. "I don't know what happens then. So much of my energy is focused on finding her and bringing her home to Mom. What becomes of my life after that, I really can't say."

They resumed walking.

"So how does what you learned last night affect you and Scully?"

The agent narrowed his eyes at his friend. "There is no Mulder and Scully, Langly."

"No, I know that, G-man. It's the one thing that keeps Frohike going, that he still has a shot at the Doc." The Gunman paused, licking his lips. "You mentioned letting Scully go."

Mulder's face softened. "Right. I'm not on a fast track for promotion in the Bureau, and I don't know if I ever was, especially after I left Behavioral Sciences. She's so career-oriented I thought she would move on one day, past me, beyond the X-Files, and I knew to keep whatever connection we have open, I would have to let her go." The prospect dropped a mask of deep sorrow over his features. "It was easier that way, to know that she would be free of me and all this, safe behind some autopsy table, lecturing to a gaggle of bright-eyed students."

"But?"

"They put her under and emplaced an inhibition against speaking out about what happened to her. They reinforced it by threatening the one thing they thought would effect her most, which wasn't her life or her job."

Langly hopped, struggling to keep up with the long-legged agent. "I'm not surprised she didn't react to a threat to herself. She's too focused, like you are, man. It wasn't her Mom or her Sister?"

Mulder shook his head.

"You?"

"Yup. And it wasn't my life, either. It was my memories of Sam they used as blackmail."

Now the Gunman froze, making Mulder spun around. "A real head trip."

The dark-haired man took a deep breath, then coughed as the cold, dry air hit his throat. "Oh, yeah. That she knew me that well, that my finding my sister mattered so much to her, even then." He shivered inside his black barn jacket. "It hit me, up in that room, we're not going to be separated, ever. We're too much a part of each other." They were just a few blocks from the grocery store now, so they picked up the pace as they felt the chill in the air deepen. "But, I should have known from our first case, Langly." He cast the other man a quick sideways glance. "Don't tell Frohike this, or I'll kill you."

Langly held up both mittened hands. "No sweat."

"In Oregon, there were these marks on the backs of the victims, and Scully was afraid she had them, so she walked into my hotel room, and ... asked me to look at them, but they were only mosquito bites. She'd just taken a shower, so she was in a robe." He hesitated, feeling awkward. "She trusted me, right off, and she let me know she did when she stood there, waiting for me to look. I should have known, even then."

"For real, Mulder. Don't worry, if I tell Frohike, he'll kill *you*, man, for letting an opportunity like that go by. What you two are to each other, it's so... unique, way past any category I know."

"Langly..."

"No, I don't mean what you think, G-man. If you two had wanted to diddle with each other, all the Bureau regs they could write wouldn't stop you. It would have happened when you first met, or when she came back, or this last winter, when you stopped tearing each other up." The Gunman stood in front of Mulder, forcing the tall man to focus on him. "If you were both dudes, it would be like, um, those Sumerian guys whose stories were on the clay... things."

Mulder closed his eyes. "Tablets, and you mean Gilgamesh and Enkidu."

Langly waved his arms. "Or in Iliad, Achilles and Patroclus."

Mulder chuckled, a wry grin brightening his face. "When did you ever read Homer, Langly?"

"My old man read it to me when I was a kid, Mulder. Since I was into the armor, swords, and chariots, the battles and stuff stuck. What?"

Mulder was frowning, deeply troubled. "Or like David and Jonathan." Langly shrugged, so Mulder elaborated. "In Torah. The two friends whose souls were knit together." He looked down. "But one of them always dies, Langly."

The Gunman was twitching in his earnestness. "Only when they were apart, man, it only happened when one of them went off to fight without the other. But when they stood together, they were invincible."

"Oh." _Is it really as simple as that?_

The two finished the walk in silence.

-o-0-o-

Giant Grocery Store  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Saturday, 10:03 am

Langly and Mulder stood in the express check-out line, holding a strange assortment of items. The agent had a carton of non-fat creamer, two packages of sunflower seeds, and a pint of chocolate chocolate-chip Haagen-Das balanced in one arm. Langly was restocking a few of the kitchen items the three were running low on. He had rested the red basket on the end of the belt as he unloaded toilet paper, coffee beans and filters, and napkins.

Frowning at the cheerful design, Mulder poked the flat package. "You guys are savages, you know. Hearts and flowers don't matter a bit to Scully."

Langly shrugged. "I had orders from Frohike. Bring it home or die." He leaned close to Mulder. "Did you see our tail back there?"

The agent suddenly became fascinated with the TV Guide cover, which showed a tall, dark-haired man with his arms around a red-haired woman in a backless dress. "Um-hum. He caught us outside in the parking lot, before we entered. Plastic." He was responding to the check-out clerk's rote question.

After they paid and left, Langly pointed to his right. "I think I know a back way home, so we can lose him."

A quick dip of Mulder's head, then they stepped out, checking over their shoulders as they slipped into the alley between the grocery and the pharmacy.

-o-0-o-

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, VA  
Saturday 9:46 am

"Agent Scully?"

She twisted on her side, puzzled that the face above her was bearded, not stubbly. "Is Mulder back?"

"No, not yet..."

Instantly alert, she swung her feet to the floor, shoved them into her black shoes, then, wincing, began adjusting the laces. "What's the most likely route they would have used?" She stopped when she saw the beard wagging from side to side.

"They're all right, they only left fifteen minutes ago. I just wanted to ask you if you could tell me why Mulder is so upset about what you two learned last night?" He watched her slump against the sofa back. "He won't talk to any of us, but he asked Langly to set him up so he could call his Mom." The couch she was using leaned against a north wall, so she could feel the heat leaving her as she sat. Byers settled beside her, waiting.

Pulling her feet up until she was cross-legged, she spread the blanket over herself. "He found out upstairs that his memories of Sam were threatened so I would be silent after I was returned. You can guess how that affected him."

He nodded. "He needs time to deal with that, and with how close you two are again."

"Yes. He spends most of his off hours at my place, as if he's trying to make up for all those years alone, so on one level, he's been starved for companionship. He's eagerly awaiting the arrival of our new agents, and he's been developing strategies to keep us together if things go against us on the Hill."

"Then why is he upset?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You know he's always been a loner, deep down. I understand that, because, if you want to know, so am I, and I suspect he always will be, at least until he finds Sam. We may see a whole new man then, I don't know." She pursed her lips. "He's also always thought our working partnership was temporary, that, like everyone else has in his life, I would leave him, to try to grab the brass ring of management and promotion."

"You mean you're not?"

She shook her head. "Not anymore. Oh, perhaps when we first started working together, but since I was returned, I've realized that what I want for myself is to do the best job I can in the X- Files, trying to work through our cases. There will always be another Director of the FBI, and after Sessions was appointed, I knew it was all about politics, *who* you knew, rather than *what* you knew. I'm thrilled that I've been able to help discover five new drugs from herb samples I collected down in Chiapas."

Byers chuckled. "Mulder's pretty pleased about that himself. He keeps reminding us that an X-Files case brought practical knowledge to the rest of the world."

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth. "I thought so. So what if I don't have an office with my name on the door? I'll keep working with Mulder, taking his flights of fancy, and either tying them to reality, or proving them wrong. We learn something either way, and the occasional recognition will satisfy me for the rest of my career." She stood, padded to the kitchen, then checked the coffeepot. _Not Kenya. He's spoiled you, Dana. Oh, well._ She filled a chipped Microcenter mug before returning to the couch. _These guys are all right, as long as we steer clear of the Conspiracies and aliens. No wonder Mulder is here when he's not with me._

Byers waited to query her until she had settled in again. "But he doesn't understand that yet, you say?"

She shrugged. "I think he does after last night, and he's scared, Byers." She rested the mug on her knee. "In his own tortured mind, he still thinks he can set me on a shelf in Quantico and keep me safe, but it's too late for that. The Shadows put me on notice when they ransacked my apartment that I'm as much a part of this as he is, and that I'm not leaving, unless I die or am kidnapped again. So now he has to work through his emotions about it, and not just develop plans for the expanded Section."

"Um-hum. Mulder can pretzel his head faster than anyone I know."

Scully smiled at the image of her long-limbed partner wrapped around himself. "Yes, he can." She sipped the rough black brew, then grimaced.

"So when did you know?"

"Know what?"

"When did you first know you were in this together for life?"

"Oh, when he was missing in New Mexico. I had a dream where he said he had come back from the dead to-" She frowned as she reconstructed the phrase in her mind. "-continue with me, I knew then that he hadn't been killed, and that we were a part of each other. It took finding the D'Amato papers to show it to him, though." She finished the coffee in five deep gulps, then set the mug on the floor. "Now, if I thought like Mulder, I would say he actually visited me on some psychic hotline we have."

They chuckled together.

"But you don't think that's so?"

"I consider dreams as all about what's happening in my own mind, Byers, which is what I've how I've viewed that subject over the past, um, almost two years now." She frowned. "I realized deep down I knew we were connected, but I didn't know how to tell him. What is odd, is that when he burst in on Skinner and me when we were holding guns on each other, he started talking about coming back from the dead, just as he had in my dream." She shrugged. "But, I'm sure it's just coincidence, nothing more."

Byers shifted over to the other sofa to face her. "But now he has to accept that you two must stick together to stay alive, for years, not just for the immediate crisis."

"Um-hum. I've tried, Max and his Mom have attempted to tell him, but Mulder is Mulder. He needs to have proof that is meaningful to him, then he'll believe. Between whatever we experienced at the Solstice, our dreams in Arkansas, and what we learned upstairs last night, he has what he considers irrefutable evidence, but he needs to work through it in his own way."

"He never took that time after New Mexico, did he?"

She sobered. "No. I didn't either, and it almost killed us both. But he's learned to wait, for me and for himself, as have I, so we should be all right, as long as we're together, that is."

"At least Mulder will be, anyway. You've been a great calming influence on him, Agent Scully. He used to drop out of sight for weeks on end, especially if work was bothering him." Byers smiled. "I'll never forget when he returned from Oregon, after your first case together. He was so excited that he had convinced you to work *with* him, rather than just report on him, he didn't sleep for a week." He sobered. "But this life must be hard on you, always being on your guard."

She shrugged. "Not really. Men and women are different, Byers." She pointed at his wedding ring. "I shouldn't have to tell you that. I'm used to the rough and tumble of brothers and their emotions, so I know what to expect. I also know I can count on his help when I'm hurt or worn through. Mulder is far more considerate than my brothers ever were, almost doting. I never would have recovered as completely as I did last year without him to take care of me."

He fiddled with the plain gold band. "Vicky and I, well, we could split over this." He waved his hand vaguely around the room. "But neither of us is ready to make that final break yet. With all her travel for the State Department, she's away almost ten months of the year, and I'd be lost without Langly and Frohike." He moved over beside her again. "But you have no life, Agent Scully. Don't you miss it?"

"I have my Mom and Mister Fuzz, and Max and Caroline are really good people, Byers. They'll help Mulder, you'll see." She crossed her arms. "My life is the way I want it, right now. Besides, how would it look if I handed you my resume: Dr. Dana Scully, licensed pathologist and paranormal investigator? Do you think I could find a job in, say, Kansas with that?"

He smirked briefly. "Unique qualifications indeed."

"Besides, my work *is* my life. Mulder is one of those few men I've met who is supportive of my career, who doesn't judge me inferior simply because I'm not absolutely perfect in everything."

Byers nodded. "Vicky runs into that all the time, especially when dealing with other diplomats. She's always worried that one slight mistake on her part will mean no more women in these highly sensitive positions she holds."

Scully was astonished that she knew so little about him, so nodded before continuing. "Exactly. I know if I wear down around Mulder, he'll wait. Which isn't to say he won't run off if some new UFO sightings spark his curiosity, but that's just how he is, and it took me a while to accept that."

"But you should still have a chance to meet someone, not just work all the time."

Her green-blue eyes clouded. "No. Whoever is attached to me is automatically threatened, just as my association with Mulder endangered me early on." She sighed. "Look, there's this Tech in Physical Evidence, Pendrell, who has a huge schoolboy's crush on me. I hate to go down there anymore because he follows me around like a puppy dog. He's a great guy, the sort of kid my Mom would love to pieces, all red hair and big green eyes."

"So Frohike should worry?"

She cocked her head. "Not at all. As I said, he's a sweet lunk, who should have a cute little wife and 2.5 adorable kids. He'll have none of that if he latches onto me. So I try to be nice, but not encourage him. I hope he'll lose interest of his own accord, or find someone better for him."

Byers stared at her for a long moment. "Mulder?"

She sighed. "My Mom's prime candidate."

"Hunh?"

Scully's rubbed her face and yawned. "No joke. Mom was grilling me in Miami, and I think she put Mulder on the spot over this too down there, only neither will tell me anything." She pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. "But with all my partner has been through, and all the baggage he carries with him, any relationship with him would start off for all the wrong reasons and turn toxic very quickly. Neither of us can afford for that to happen, and we both know it, so we don't push the limits."

"But have you two talked about it?"

She shrugged. "A little, but there's not much to say. If we're on the same wavelength about anything mentally, it's about this. The best we can hope for, at least until the world changes, is what we have right now."

They jumped.

Frohike had entered the room, beaming. "Agent Scully, you've just given me a reason to live."

Scully growled under her breath. "Good morning, Frohike."

But the little man was undaunted. "Ah, the dulcet descant of my delightful Dana."

"*Frohike*, not now."

"I take that as your promise for the future." He bowed.

While his head was down, Scully and Byers rolled their eyes.

All three turned, however, when they heard the bushes in the back yard rustle. Scully dove for her gun, which was hidden in the bag by the sofa, then snapped the clip in place as she followed the two men to the rear of the house.

Frohike pulled the deck door open when he saw Mulder and Langly emerge. "It didn't help, I could see from my room that they're watching down the street."

Frowning, Scully stood immediately behind him, easing the clip out of her weapon.

Walking had cleared Mulder's mind of fear and focused his thinking, as exercise always did, so he crossed to stand beside his partner. "We're fine, Scully." The grin that accompanied his statement reached to his eyebrows.

She beamed her broad smile of relief in response before patting his arm. "Yes, we will be, Mulder." The partners returned to the living room to sink onto the couch facing the television.

Langly dropped the bags in the kitchen. "Sorry about the coffee, Doc, the G-man picked out something you'd like better while we were out. Maxwell House is like Jolt around here, but it isn't what we usually use for company. I'll start a fresh pot."

Reaching across Mulder, Scully checked the plastic bag her partner had dropped at his side. "Only seeds, no Penthouse?"

He had been grinning while watching her gently tease him, so now released an exaggerated sigh. "New issue's not out yet, Scully, sorry." He tore one bag open, then waved it under her face, reveling in her grimace. "I think Frohike can dig something up for you if the Turks have crossed the Golden Horn already." They cocked eyebrows at each other before Mulder pointed the remote at the set.

Scully returned to the other sofa for the blanket, wiggling her feet back out of her shoes.

Her partner thumbed up the volume. "Check this out."

The five watched the newscast in silence.

Scully turned to the dark-haired man. "We were right, the Shadows *have* leaked a fake document to CNN. That's all this declassified government earthquake evacuation plan is." The map that had triggered Scully's memories was enlarged and displayed on the screen.

Mulder rubbed his face. "Now what? I'm fresh out of ideas. Should I just walk out there, turn the report over and say I'm sorry?"

Scully shook her head. "We can't let them win that easily, Mulder. You've been up all night, but I think we should take the report, have the Gunmen purge all but one copy of the pages, and go."

As the other men focused on her, Frohike grinned. "It's getting so I can't tell the two of you apart anymore."

She sobered. "Actually, my motives are purely selfish. There's three months of my life somewhere along those roads, and I want that time back. We can send Skinner an E-mail so he knows where we are, then take off. What do you say?" She poked her partner in the shoulder, directing the last question at him.

He was thinking through options himself, coming to the same conclusions as she. "Sam's life is on that route too, Scully. As for Skinner, he only wanted a general itinerary. Since we know we'll have to turn the document over regardless, we might as well make the best use of our time to give them a run for it."

Scully took a deep breath. "The coffee smells great, Langly, what is it?"

-o-0-o-

Dark Apartment  
Washington, D.C.  
Saturday, 10:47 am

'Charlie' took a whiff of the stale air as he entered the bare apartment his old superior had vacated. After all this time, the odor of tobacco still hung in the air. _Well, what did you expect? Black Lung didn't have a wife, or a housekeeper. He probably never opened his windows in the Spring or Fall._

Lindhauer followed close behind. "Jeez, this is weird. It's like he just left or something."

They froze when they heard a sound from the bedroom.

"Perhaps he just did."

"You! How did you get in?"

X stepped out of the hallway. "You aren't the only ones he gave a key to. We were all working for him in one way or another. There's nothing here."

Lindhauer stepped up to him to glare down his long, beaklike nose at the African-American. "We don't think he's dead."

'Charlie' nodded. "The evidence surrounding his murder is too perfect; it looks like it has been faked."

X fixed a stare on the portly unworthy he had to address as his superior now, taking secret delight in the stout man's discomfort. "It took you this long to figure that out?" X crossed his arms. "You disappoint me. I suspect that in one way or another, the FBI is already aware he's alive."

Lindhauer grunted. "If you knew, why didn't you say?"

X growled. "I don't know, but I suspect. I learned long ago, never volunteer answers to questions I haven't been asked. As I said, there's nothing here. This was where he ate and slept, nothing more. His life was in that office, so if you want clues, I suggest you look there."

Lindhauer and 'Charlie' shrugged, leaving the apartment under the African-American's watchful eye.

Once their footsteps died away, he exited slowly himself, locking the door behind him. X patted his jacket pocket and chuckled. _Yes, there's nothing at all of interest in that suite, ... anymore._

-o-0-o-

Pine Woods Housing Development  
Allentown, PA  
Sunday, February 2, 1997  
11:27 am

Mulder dug in the pocket of his black jacket for the city map, opened it, then laid the printout on top of the heavy fan-folded sheet. "Scully, ah, I think we want the next left."

Amused, she glanced at her frowning partner. "Not terribly clear, is it?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm thinking of calling a medium for a remote viewing of the overlay."

She growled, then lifted one corner of her mouth at his smirk.

_Gotcha, Scully._

_All's fair, Mulder._ "That's why I wanted *you* to look at it."

With one hand, he held the sheet to his forehead while he acted as if he were in a trance, curling the other around his ribs to ward off the expected playful jab from his partner.

Glancing at the white band of gauze, she sighed, _We're both too beaten up for that, Dana,_ then pulled the BMW into the parking lot. The location they believed was indicated by the map lay before them, but it was not the flat dark warehouse they expected. Instead, the field they were scanning was a green-sward with swings, slides, jungle gyms, and parallel bars.

Climbing out of their automobile, the agents stretched after the long drive from Alexandria. Scully knelt beside the thick turf, then, on a whim, pulled off her glove to pluck a few of the blades. She tried holding the grass between her thumbs and blowing through the narrow opening, but, just as when she and Charlie were young, failed to produce a whistle. _At least there was one thing he could do that you couldn't, Dana._

Noticing that her partner was checking the parking lot, searching for anything out of place, she spoke his name quietly. He focused on the laughing, running children, who were hopping over refrozen patches of dirty snow in the yard. Thinking of their lost siblings, a sober mood settled upon the partners. Mulder walked over to Scully to touch her on the back, but instead of moving forward, she checked his face, finding he was pensive, not sorrowful.

He sent her a small grin. "Should we check for wayward time machines, Romana?"

She cocked her head. "After you, Doctor."

They stepped onto the deep sod, each remembering their younger, less careworn selves.

"Sam loved swings, Scully." He flopped onto the red canvas strap, beginning to pump himself back and forth unconsciously by one booted foot. "She would ask me to push her higher, higher, until Mom would run over, worried she would be hurt, and stop us."

She leaned against one silver support for the overhead bar, and, as she watched him rock, offered her own memories of her sister. "Grandfather O'Shea had an old wooden swing, rigged up in a maple tree, and Mel would go moon over her latest boyfriend whenever we had to visit there. I could hear the creak, creak of the rope sliding over the bark as I read on the back porch, and the sound would lull me to sleep." As he stood, banishing his somber mood, she lifted a small black box out of her deep jacket pocket.

Mulder watched over her shoulder while Scully activated the unit and the red meter needle wiggled and jumped. "Is that the universal counter Frohike designed?"

"Um-hum. We have this theory, Mulder. Now, I never had the chance to give the first chip to the Gunmen to test, but they discovered that the second one, the one that corroded and had stopped working, was radioactive. If the doctors were working on several different women at once, they must have stashed the chips together. So, even if the building had been leveled, there should be relict radiation in the soil somewhere." She began working the playground, sweeping the sensor from side to side.

Mulder walked beside her, watching the parking lot and considering the possibilities. "If they used radioactive chips, that would help explain the cancers, wouldn't it?"

She nodded, stopping after she had swept the field. "I don't pick up anything much over background, Mulder." She shrugged. "It was a shot in the dark, anyway."

As they walked to the car, he touched her shoulder. "It would have been great to find something right off, but we couldn't be that lucky."

Scully pocketed the device. "We shouldn't have expected too much, the nearest railroad tracks are three miles away."

"Yeah, right."

They reentered the BMW that she had insisted upon renting, both as distraction and for insurance in case of pursuit, then drove off.

-o-0-o-

Scully Home  
Norfolk, Virginia  
Sunday, 11:48 am

Margaret turned the Volvo station wagon into the driveway. _This was what I've needed for a while, to be with Charlie, Val, and John, at this time in their lives._ She had enjoyed her stay with the Lowenbergs, Fox, and Dana, but she had been a cossetted guest, not a needed party. Her daughter still puzzled her. _Oh, Fox can be strange at times, running off to chase his wild alien theories._ But they seemed to have accepted each other as they were, a tolerance that oftentimes took married couples decades to achieve, not the five tumultuous years these two had survived. _Or is it really as Max had said? Were the things that irked spouses not important for colleagues?_

Gathering the grocery bags, she juggled her keys as she approached the front door, then paused. Listening to the loud voices from within, she was afraid the conversation she would interrupt between her son and daughter-in-law was not for a nosy mother-in-law to hear.

"Chuck, this is ridiculous. John-John *will* *not* go with you to that rally next Saturday. Yes, it's important for him to grow up and take an interest in the world around him, but he's too small to understand the complexities we do."

She heard the thump, thump of her son's cast as he stomped around the living room. To compound the unpleasant situation, the Pomeranian was barking furiously, while John had reverted to the mode that had always worked when he was younger. He was crying as loudly as his little lungs could bawl.

Her son's reply was an unexpectedly harsh. "Val, it's important to me. These people hold the country's future in their hands, and the sooner John meets up with them the better. There are special activities for kids his age, so he won't be bored, and there will be someone looking after him all the time."

"I've been to a few myself, Chuck, and I don't like all the messages these people project. We Catholics and the other Minorities aren't responsible for America's problems."

"Val, that's the Klan, and these groups have specifically disavowed them. This is different. This is about basic Democracy, working on the grass-roots level, just like it did during the Colonial era, with town meetings and all-volunteer militias. I can't see anything wrong with that, can you?"

Margaret could tell from Val's slightly hysterical tone that she was playing her last card. "But Margaret said Dana warned her about this meeting."

Charles' voice raised a notch. "That's because she's been spending too much time with that wacked-out partner of hers! Who can tell what garbage he's fed her, with all his Oxford education and Massachusetts Liberal ideas!"

"Chuck! How can you think that?"

He dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, "He's a Jew, isn't he?"

Her daughter-in-law's response was strained through gritted teeth, "Charles, I don't want to hear any more of this! Is that what you men say to each other in your little meetings? That's evil! Whoever told you that is filling your head with horrible lies!"

Her son continued as if he were chanting from memory. "It's well known all Jews in America protect the existing order. It's good for their... "

Margaret chose that moment to rattle her keys loudly outside. _Don't start that, Charles O'Shea Scully, or I'll set you straight, broken leg or no!_ She was hoping for an ally, and the little canine cooperated by padding to the entrance to scratch at the door.

As she pushed it open, little John stopped wailing, since something new was happening that he wanted to see.

-o-0-o-

X-Files Offices  
Second Floor  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington, D.C.  
Sunday, 12:01 pm

Cynthia squinted at Mulder's handwriting on the latest draft of the Fordyce case report. He had wanted her to finish up the final version for Director Skinner on Monday, but had only dropped these changes off just before he left around quarter of eight Friday night, deeply worried about Agent Scully and her family. Cynthia was concerned too, which was why she was here on a Sunday afternoon, keying in the last revisions. Agent Mulder had already signed off on the cover sheet, and had made a passable attempt at forging his partner's signature as well. _Take the week off, Cynthia._ His parting instructions brought a smile to her face, since she knew he expected her to take him literally. Her new boss might be an odd man, but at least he was reasonable to work for.

"Hello!"

She swiveled to face the front door. "Hi."

It was Amanda Edwards, the brunette tech from the sixth floor, Mulder's acquaintance from his Quantico training, standing in the doorway. "I dropped by to install some new networking software on Agent Mulder's computer? Agent Scully stopped by and asked me if I could help."

When they had left the basement, Scully had insisted they put themselves on a local area net, with her Linux box as the server, but they had found no software that worked as Scully required for Mulder's Macintosh. Cynthia knew Amanda was supposed to be a genius with computers and electronics; if Scully wasn't around to troubleshoot, Mulder often called on her to fix his machine.

Nodding, Cynthia stepped away from her desk, flipping through the keys on her ring until she found the one for Mulder's office. "I'll be out here working a little longer, so just slam the door shut if I leave before you, all right?"

Amanda waved as Cynthia returned to her files. Waiting until she heard clicking from the keyboard, 'Ace' powered the Apple system up. _Now, Mister X-File, let's see what you know that you shouldn't._ While she didn't expect Mulder to keep anything in the office, she and 'Charlie' had decided it never hurt to check. _It wouldn't be like they would just tape the report to the underside of the desk top, would it?_ She clicked and scrolled, barely aware of Cynthia calling a farewell at some later time as she left. _This guy is stranger that I thought, but at least I can plant these bugs now._

-o-0-o-

Pennsylvania Avenue  
Washington, DC  
Thursday, February 6, 1997  
9:53 pm

Behind the tinted windows of a black sedan, the driver checked the faces leaving the Hoover building. He was waiting to cast the Golden Apple of Discord among the four young successors to his superiors in the Manhattan high-rise. _They were already sniping at each other, finding that the reins of power were charged, and that they burned to keep hold of._ Out of long habit, he clasped a white cylinder between his lips and lit the end. Checking the far side of Ninth Street, he spotted his rotund one-time assistant, whose knees used to knock whenever he entered his dark office.

_Where is she?_ He leaned over the steering wheel, craning his neck until he glimpsed a familiar head of brunette curls, above her absent-minded expression. _Ah, Amanda, forgive me. Those boys have no understanding of your true worth or beauty._ He waited until she was waving and hurrying across the street to turn the engine over.

-o-0-o-

'Ace' strode along the wide sidewalk, considering whether the parallel processing algorithm she was testing would calculate a triple nested encryption faster if she set up a six-Alpha parallel system under Linux. The response of Scully's DX4-120 had impressed her when she had been downloading files to disk and inserting a few random characters into the reports. She had just wanted to enhance the paranoia she knew they would feel when they realized their computer network had been compromised. Cynthia, she felt certain, would say nothing, since 'Ace' was a frequent visitor to the second floor.

_It's not fair; we control so much more than those two ever will, and I'm stuck in a white lab coat all day, not out dashing around the country. Oh, well. Now, if I want to use the faster Alphas, I'll have to purchase them with the Organization's funds, not my own, but will that be approved by the others?_ She started across Ninth Street, her mind weighing the trade-offs with the 64-bit machines, her feet automatically pointed toward the Metro escalator for the short ride to Union Station. There, she and 'Charlie' would take a very late supper, after which, she hoped, he would agree to the purchase of the machines she wished to acquire. She barely heard the voice calling her from the other side of the street, then blinked before looking up.

"Drew!" 'Ace' beamed, stepping out to greet the man, not heeding the flashing red hand. She barely heard the black sedan as it whipped around the corner. She had been flung back onto the concrete to collapse in a heap by the blue Washington Post box before the pain registered in her mind.

"Amanda!"

She attempted to focus through the haze. _When had he begun using her real name? Had she given him her permission?_

His round, red face appeared over her. "Can you hear me? It's me, Drew, remember?" As she watched in quiet dissociation, he autodialed 911, then covered her with his coat, sinking down beside her to hold her hand as they waited.

"Drew? Who would do this? I thought we had eliminated all the loyalists that remained?"

He squinted at her, clutching her hand a bit tighter when they heard the sirens in the distance. "I don't know." His squeaky voice failed, so he waited for a moment, hoping that her twitching leg meant she would stand and walk one day, not that she would be a cripple for the rest of her life. "But when I find them, they will pay, don't worry." _Oh, yes, they *will* pay._ He glanced behind him as he heard the doors on the ambulance open.

-o-0-o-

The Vista Inn  
Bluefield, West Virginia  
Thursday, 10:21 pm

Scully slammed the driver's side door after she reentered their BMW. Worn from the endless hours following the map route, they were both eager to cease traveling tonight. She had been standing by Mulder at the check-in desk, chewing the inside of her cheek to keep silent as her partner dickered with the proprietor over lodging fees. After one glare too many, she returned to the car so he could haggle without her impatient fidgeting at his elbow. She knew his concern was for their personal bank accounts, because, as usual, they were operating outside of the purview of the FBI. But, following another twelve hour drive, she ceased to see the importance of reducing the room price by five dollars per night for a single night, at most.

Rubbing her legs for a few seconds, she focused on the front desk, visible through tall, uncluttered windows, where her partner was gesturing furiously. She could tell the clerk was close to giving in, just to relieve the annoyance the tall man was causing him. Finally, the grizzled retiree behind the counter passed over the room keys.

Mulder turned to head out to their car, holding his trench coat closed at the neck when he reentered the vehicle. "We'll need to drive around to the back, Scully." After he buckled the lap belt, his shoulders drooped. "127 and 129." He scrubbed his face with both hands. "Well, that was a wash too. If the map hadn't triggered your memories, at this point, I'd be willing to call this off altogether."

She waited until they were parked before replying. "I know. You're the psychologist, Mulder, but isn't it possible I *wanted* to learn something about those missing three months, and the map was nothing but a convenient excuse?"

He shook his head. "What I meant was that they've been here and sanitized the areas we've stopped at far more thoroughly than the report was. It's suspicious that nearly every location on that map is *not* on railroads, and is now a golf course, a landfill, or a playground." He passed her the key to 127. "Well, maybe tomorrow we'll know more from the RF&P warehouse. That, at least, is on a working rail line."

She nodded. "I suppose we need to find someplace for dinner, but at this point, I'd settle for a good night's rest."

He smirked. "Yah. Even though this place has three adult channels, I'll probably not need the Wild Student Nurses' help to sleep tonight." As she took her blue duffel bag from him, he bent over her shoulder. "Of course, Scully, I could *always* be kept awake..."

Staring up, she realized she was too tired to parry jests. Instead, she contented herself with leaning her shoulder into his side, using the gesture to thank him for the concern behind his quip. As he fell silent, leaning into her in return, she took her leave. "Don't wait up, partner. We've been too many hours on the road." She pushed the door open, letting it swing shut after she entered.

-o-0-o-

Dark Apartment  
Fairfax, Virginia  
Thursday, 11:03 pm

X closed the folder he had lifted from his smoking superior's apartment. He had always been curious as to how far the Organization had advanced in the Experiment, but now he knew. That knowledge brought him back to the unruly charge he protected, since now, more than ever, it was important for Mulder not to discover anything significant. _There are ways I can be certain of that._

Picking up his desk phone, X punched in a long-distance number, then spoke three words: "Dreyfus, XYZ, Chamberlain." Click. His nameless superior had established certain safeguards and procedures, so he activated the least lethal of the options available to him. Between the policies he would shortly encourage the Gang of Four to pursue, and these, the FBI agents would be kept busy, away from any active operations. He tapped out seven digits.

"Mister McConnell, we need to talk. I shall meet you..." Standing before the call was completed, X swiveled when he heard the computer beep, finding himself startled as the unit fell to the floor.

-o-0-o-

Vista Inn  
Room 129  
Friday, February 7, 1997  
3:34 am

The loud crash shook Mulder awake, so he grabbed his gun off the nightstand, crossing the room to the adjoining door with Room 127. But Scully had pulled it open before him. She was standing, rumpled but alert, as the illumination from her bedside lamp highlighted the anxiety in his face.

Mulder bent over her. "You heard that?"

She nodded. "Anything outside?"

He waited to part the curtains until after she had killed the light and stood directly in front of him, then they peered into the darkness, one drawn face above the other. But they were far in the country, where, unlike most urban areas, there was no glow from surrounding street lamps or developments. Mulder and Scully waited, hoping their eyes would adjust, or that they would spot moving shapes in the dark. She spun under him, heading for the back window, but there was nothing beyond.

Mulder returned to his nightstand, punching in 8 for the front desk. "Let's find out if we're just imagining things, Scully." She had padded into the room behind him, closing, then locking the adjoining door. The phone rang, ten, then fifteen times, before it was answered. Scully watched her partner speak with the clerk.

He handed her the briefcase with the report in it before he hung up the phone. "He says it's just an explosion down at the Arsenal, but I'm not sure. It was a different voice."

Nodding once, Scully padded back to her room, dressing in a heavy black sweater, jeans, and hiking boots before Mulder rapped three times, then entered. She saw he had changed. From the bulges in his duffel bag and the way it was slung high on his shoulder, she knew he had packed quickly. Scully had long since learned to keep her clothes in her luggage on fishing expeditions like this, so she followed him out the door into the car. Mulder took the wheel, then they left.

-o-0-o-

Behind them, a black sedan tailed the BMW, keeping a discrete distance. Inside, a tiny flame was lit, then extinguished, an orange light flared, then faded to a barely detectable red glow. _You're on the trail, Mulder. This is no time to rest._ As he sped up, the import responded with several turns. _Let him think his new adversaries are on his tail. I've always watched over you, Mister Mulder, and I suppose, for your parents' sake, I always shall._ The cigarette finished, he tossed the butt out the window, then lit a new one almost immediately.

-o-0-o-

Mulder checked the rear-view mirror. "I think we've lost him, Scully."

She continued scanning the road behind them in her side-view mirror. "You're sure it was only one?"

He shrugged. "There was only a single set of lights, so here's hoping."

Her hours behind the wheel having caught up with her, she turned, angry. "Mulder, we can't just hope!"

Taken aback, the small grin faded, then he snarled a response. "Well, what do you suggest we do, Doctor Scully?"

She dropped her head in her hands, too drained to expend more emotional energy. "I'm sorry, Mulder, I don't know what to do other than hope. That was one of the soundest sleeps I've had in weeks that was shocked out of me."

Nodding, he rested one hand on her shoulder. "We'll trade off driving, Scully. We're too tired to do anything more than fight, if we're not careful. Check out. It will take at least five hours to reach the warehouse site."

Scully reclined the seat, silently dropping off almost as quickly as she had been roused.

Mulder looked her over. _She's never nodded off like that before, not while we're on a case. Watch her, G-man._

-o-0-o-

Georgetown Hospital  
Washington, DC  
Friday, 2:47 am

"'Charlie'!"

He quickly shoved his glasses back on his nose, blinking and staring at the still figure in the bed. Since Amanda had not awakened after the surgery, he had pitched fits, offered bribes, called in political favors to stay here until his 'Ace' revived from her coma. _Perhaps then, I can work up my courage to tell her. Even if she only thinks of me as a friend, she deserves to know how I feel about her._

But the hand that shook him belonged not to a nurse, but Lindhauer, who was standing over him, staring dourly. "We need to talk."

'Charlie' stood. "So talk."

McConnell's red curls shifted as he jerked his head towards the hall, so the three filed out together. They huddled as an orderly pushed a laundry cart down the narrow, cluttered corridor.

After a quick glance down his long, thin nose at McConnell, Lindhauer began his demands. "This thing you have for 'Ace' has to stop."

'Charlie', his eyes appearing to bulge as he focused through his thick lenses, stared at his fellow conspirator. "What do you mean? Her parents are both dead, so someone should be here for her when she wakes up." He stuck his head back in the room.

McConnell patted his shoulder. "Then let it be one of us, not you. We still have much to do, and you're needed on the job, so let us take shifts with her."

'Charlie' shook his head. "It's my fault, don't you see. She was crossing the street to speak with me when she was hit. I'm responsible for her being here in the first place."

Lindhauer frowned. "No, 'Charlie', we all know her. She was probably building the next super-computer in her head and didn't even hear the car that struck her. What have the doctors said?"

'Charlie' turned to him. "She has a broken collarbone, and three cracked ribs. The head trauma was not severe, so she should be fine when she does awaken. But she's been working hard on a new encryption algorithm, so this may be a needed rest for Amanda." The other two glared, but he ignored them. "I'm staying. There's nothing I can do until morning anyway."

McConnell stood in front of him, surprised to realize his black frames were as cracked as 'Charlie''s. "This could split us up, *'Charlie'*." He emphasized the code name. "Remember the documents we found in your old boss' office. It's too soon to let petty personal desires come between us. X has been in contact, and the FBI is too close to active operations for comfort."

'Charlie' crossed his arms. "No, I'll stay. You guys go through Black Lung's stuff. Just tell Luther to have Mulder and Scully roughed up, so they'll be out of our hair for a while."

As 'Charlie' disappeared into 'Ace's' room, closing the door behind him, Lindhauer and McConnell looked to each other, then shrugged. _We'll have to talk more about this later._

-o-0-o-

Georgetown Hospital  
Friday 7:43 am

When he heard its occupant sigh, 'Charlie' stopped pacing to stand at the foot of the bed. He had been thinking hard about something he needed to say, but he wanted to practice while she was sleeping, so he wouldn't lose his nerve once he awoke. Full of trepidation, he approached her side to take her hand.

"Amanda, there's something you need to know about me. I've always admired your abilities, the way you see computer software and electronic circuits in your head. You've always made time for me, even when Black Lung had you under some terrible deadline, and you've never made fun of my weight. You even think it's cute." He smiled. "You call me Drew, after the actor on TV, and I love it." He laid one large hand on the crown of her head, moving the hair around with his thumb. "I love it, and I love you, too." He carefully placed a kiss on her forehead.

The woman's eyes rolled back and forth under her lids, leaving him, for a moment, afraid she was suffering a fit induced by the head injury. "I love you too, Daddy." Even though she was still unconscious, she smiled at her visitor.

'Charlie's' heart stopped. _That will have to do for now._ Sighing, he straightened, thinking he could step away and leave her to rest.

She gripped his hand back, then her eyes flew open. "Daddy? Don't leave me again." Blinking, she focused on the face in front of her. "Drew? Is that you?" She glanced around the room. "Are we still on the sidewalk? I'm so warm here!"

"You're in the hospital, Amanda. You were hit by a car as you crossed the street to meet me. I'm sorry." He managed a weak smile for her.

She winced as she tried to sit up, then stopped. "That's all right. I was debating how many of those new one gigahertz Alphas to ask you guys for when I stepped off, so I probably didn't hear the car."

He leaned over her. "We think it was one of the loyalists, but we're checking. It's not fair, Amanda, it should have been me, not you."

She smiled up at his remorseful, anguished expression. "Don't say that. If something were to happen to me, there are six other guys perfectly capable of taking my place. But you three are the politically connected ones. Without 'Finn' and 'Andrew', we would lose access to the Congressmen we control, and you, Drew, know more about Black Lung's operations than anyone else."

He stared down at her hand. "But, I'd miss you, doesn't that count?"

"Oh." She considered for a moment. "I didn't think anyone would know or care. Thank you. Drew?" His brown eyes met her green ones. "I thought my Daddy was here, but I must have been hallucinating. I thought he told me he loved me."

Drew gasped. _It's now or never._ "I said that, Amanda. I love you." She smiled, but he could read worry in her eyes, so he leaned forward to kiss her forehead again. "I mean that, really."

She looked over at the small window beside the bed. "I suppose I sort of guessed you did. But, I never was sure." She focused on him again. "Does that mean I have to call you Edgar now?"

He grinned. "No, Drew is wonderful. Edgar was my Mother's Father's first name, and he was such a mean old guy, I never wanted to be associated with him. I like Drew much better, so you use that."

"Okay. Call me Lisa then."

He chuckled. "After the computer?"

She laughed out loud. "No, although I hadn't made that connection before now, it's my middle name, and Amanda is so formal. I hate any abbreviations of it, like Manny or Andie or something. Lisa is so much nicer."

"Sure."

She squeezed his hand. "Now, go save the world, I'd like to sleep." While 'Charlie' felt like he was floating as he left the room, 'Ace' was deep in thought as she turned to the window. _What am I going to do about this?_ She knew his revelation would occupy her mind for most of the rest of her stay in the hospital.

'Charlie' checked 'Ace' one final time before he left to shower and change, wondering what was so fascinating about the warehouse across the street.

-o-0-o-

RF&P Warehouse  
Outside Bluefield, West Virginia  
Friday, 7:04 am

Mulder and Scully surveyed the low structure before them. Unlike the ziggurat of the Strughold Mine, this facility did not wear the appearance of long neglect, but rather, recent dishabitation. None of the windows were broken. The foliage in front of the door had blown there during the last storm, not grown up and died from the autumn frost. Mulder flicked his hand at the far wall, then the partners separated, each moving stealthily around the building's perimeter.

Mulder kept his finger on the autodial button of his cell phone, knowing that Scully was using the same precaution as he. If either was jumped, each knew to dial the other, one ring sufficient to summon assistance. It had taken many late-night discussions for Scully to teach her partner that such simple precautions would greatly allay her fear that he would run off and be injured or killed. Catching motion inside an open door as he approached it, he spun into the entrance, gun leveled and aimed. A grey furry rodent scurried between Mulder's legs. Hopping back, he grimaced, pausing to shake his feet, since he thought he had seen its long pink tail drag over the leather of his hiking boots.

Resuming his progress, the agent flattened himself against the wall before checking around the corner. "Ah!" As he was grabbed, he fumbled in his jacket, the sequence of beeps he heard reassuring him that help was on the way. He was pushed to the ground, where he kicked out at his captors, trying to draw his gun and flip over onto his back.

Scully fired over the struggling men's heads. "Freeze! Federal Agent!"

Confused, they scattered as her bullets ricocheted off the concrete blocks.

Mulder rolled onto his knees, nodding at her 'Are you okay?' before the agents sprinted towards the front of the building and their BMW.

"Do you still have it, Scully?"

She waved her hand over her jacket, grunting when he reached back to press them both against the wall.

Mulder checked around the corner, turned to look down at her, and shook his head before pointing into the woods. "We'll have to try to lose them in there, or else we'll be caught."

"Right." Scully could hear the shouting behind them. The words were indistinct in the distance, swallowed by dry branches that snapped as she and her partner forced a way through.

-o-0-o-

The skies were grey and overcast once the sun rose. A spotty, cold mist settled on the mountain, growing into a heavy downpour as they moved away from the warehouse, occasionally slowed by snowdrifts. After jogging forward for about an hour, resting only to gauge the lack of pursuit behind them, Scully's Doctor Mode took over.

"We'll have to find shelter soon, Mulder. We can't succumb to the cold while on our feet. Even though the temperatures are in the forties so we won't have to contend with a new pile of snow, we need to get out of the rain."

Nodding, Mulder stopped by a three story pine tree to shake the thick evergreen foliage, which would provide natural insulation from the elements. "Let's try this, Scully."

The lower branches hung off the trunk at waist-height, drooping at the ends to brush the needle-covered ground, so they crawled underneath. For once, Scully found she had the advantage of her tall partner. She could stretch her back and neck against the trunk without bumping tree limbs, while he was forced to curl into a ball, as he propped his head up on one arm.

She peered at him through the semi-darkness. "Will you be all right?"

"Hum?" As he shifted his weight to a more comfortable position, he heard the brown spikes beneath him rubbing against each other. "Oh, I should say so. Phoebe would have considered this more than ample room for a little exercise."

She rolled her eyes. "I've never understood what you were attracted to in her."

Mulder smirked. "Brains, good looks, and a wicked sense of humor helped." He could sense that Scully had heard his quickened breathing beside her when she shrank away from him. In the faint light filtering through the branches, he saw her lips purse at his cocked eyebrow. "Considering the temperatures, move over here. Small bodies lose heat faster than larger ones."

_He has you there._ Scully wiggled over until she was tucked up between Mulder and the rough trunk. He tried to curl around his partner, while keeping them both as close to the dry center as he could. _Thank him for his concern, Dana._ "This wouldn't be a situation where a Lady should fear for her honor, Agent Mulder?"

He chuckled. "Let's see, Agent Scully. You march into our office every day to argue with my excellent hypotheses which explain all our cases before we even leave the building. Ow!" Her fingers had gently pinched his arm, so he shifted to look over at her. "But, you, Brother Abelard, *demand* proof and evidence, so we are *forced* to fly off to corners of America that would only exist in a Clive Barker novel to find it. Ooh!"

She had pinched just a little harder. "So you're saying I take advantage of you? *Mulder*, that's ridiculous! If I didn't make you come up with that proof and evidence, you would have been booted out of the FBI years ago!"

His hazel eyes met her green-blue ones. _Don't I know it, Scully._

Shivering in her soaked sheepskin-lined canvas jacket, she twisted around to prop her back against his thighs. "We had better keep awake." Her voice was lazy and distant.

But he failed to notice the change, lost as he was in joking with her. "Hum, partner, singing is out, talking is out, and something 'dishonorable' would only put us to sleep afterward, so what do you suggest?" He glanced down at her. "Scully?" He saw her eyes had closed, felt that she was leaning hard against him, so he shook her by jiggling his leg. _You've pushed her too far again, G-man, after you promised you wouldn't._ "Scully? Wake up." Now hypothermia was his chief concern for her, so he set her back up on her own, holding her shoulders as he called her name. _Something's wrong._ "Scully? Are you hurt? Sick?"

She jumped. "I'm all right." She blinked and focused. "If anything, you've finally put me out by being overheated from running, Mulder."

Relieved, he grinned, but they both ducked as a bullet cut through the evergreen, just over their heads. Pulling their weapons free, the agents flattened themselves on the thick pad of needles to shift into position. He faced towards the direction the shot was fired; she pointed 180 degrees opposite in case they were facing an ambush. Checking his partner under his arm, Mulder muttered darkly as another projectile sliced spiky sprigs from the lowest branches to fall on their backs, then into their hair.

Each peered through the thick green cover at the sound of approaching men. Their pursuers made no attempt at stealth, but gave the agents ample cues to aim their guns. The partners waited until the shouting was near to ready them.

The footfalls grew louder and closer, then ceased. "I think I've hit something!"

-o-0-o-

End - Passages in Memory - Journey


	4. Recovery

====o=====================================================o=====

_Passages in Memory_ by Mary Ruth Keller

Part IV - _Recovery_

=====o=====================================================o=====

Woods, outside  
Bluefield, West Virginia  
Friday, February 7, 1997  
10:37 am

Ed Hawkins lowered the two-way radio from his lips, knowing the five other Rangers and Customs Agents at his command would reach him in a few minutes. He had been called down from his usual post in the Monongahela Forest to head up the raid, replacing Tim Parker, whose truck had thrown a camshaft. Now it looked to have been a success. _It's too quiet in there._ Parting the branches of the Scotch pine with his rifle, he was startled by the two government issue handguns that hovered inches from the end of the barrel.

Finding himself utterly at the mercy of whoever was behind the SIGs, Hawkins could only stammer. "Um, you..."

When the partners saw the buffalo and mountain logo on the man's green, wide-brimmed hat, they shouted their affiliations, lowered their weapons, then flashed their FBI identifications.

Scully crawled out of the damp space first. "We were following a lead on the kidnappings of a group of women over the past few decades."

Mulder, appreciating her clear-headedness, nodded as he stood through the greenery. _If you had babbled about secret multi-generational government experiments, G-man, they would certainly have locked you up for sniffing glue._ "We had found evidence that some of the women were kept in that old RF&P warehouse below, and had been checking it out when I was attacked." He shrugged. "Naturally, I assumed..."

The lanky, freckled Ranger frowned. "Hunh. Sounds like someone has their wires crossed somewhere. We were phoned an anonymous tip about stolen electronics stashed in it." He jerked his head in the downslope direction. "The ringleaders were to be here for a shipment out this morning. Since they were identified as mid- thirties Caucasians, one male and one female, driving an expensive import, when we saw the BMW,..."

The three exchanged smiles, ruefully shaking their heads at their respective predicaments. Mulder waved his hand in a 'forget it' gesture, focusing down on his partner's face after she touched his elbow.

Scully's eyes flicked down the slope of the mountain. "Obviously, someone wants us not to see what's in that warehouse."

They walked out to the nearest clearing, where Hawkins pointed at his dark green four-wheel drive. As the rain suddenly intensified, the FBI agents pulled their damp jackets up around their necks.

A small stream ran off the Ranger's hat as if it were channeling down a drainspout. "Let's hustle you two out of this miserable weather and go foil their plans, shall we?" Quickly climbing behind the high wheel, Hawkins waited while Mulder pulled the passenger side open to guide his partner into the cab. Noticing that they were both soaked to the skin, Hawkins set the heat on full blast in the truck before he radioed an all-clear to the rest of his team.

On the long trip down the mountain, the Ranger observed the bright red scars, but said nothing. Except for one quick exchange, neither had they. _If they were hiding out in the forest, then this must be more than a regular case for them._ He had been partnered for most of his career with Lou Richards, dead of a heart attack in his own home. _Had a whole year gone by now?_ Hawkins knew the distance he himself would have gone to help the older man who had been his mentor and friend, so he could respect whatever mission these two had set for themselves.

The only conversation came when Scully had shivered, her partner had reached in front of her to redirect the vent pointed at him to warm her, then shifted slightly closer to her. He had asked her if there was anything else she needed, but she had issued a short reply: "I'm fine, Mulder." The worried look the dark-haired agent had focused on her auburn crown told Hawkins that she was far from all right.

The Ranger wondered if the tiny woman beside him, radiating reliability and strength in an almost visible aura, had been one of those victims. Had it been himself and Richards, they would have pursued a case of personal significance even if they had been 'officially removed'. Hawkins suspected this pair was much similar. But, he also knew there were arguments about cases one conducted in public, while matters of a more personal nature were discussed in private. This, he suspected, fell in the latter category.

-o-0-o-

RF&P Warehouse  
Friday, 12:14 pm

The Rangers and the Agents entered the building cautiously. The interior was one immense, unbroken space, where two rows of thick, rectangularly cross-sectioned concrete columns rose to the roof beams. The square windows that ran along both long walls just under the ceiling were blackened, by both deliberate painting, as well as through years of accumulated dust. But, the long skylights between the ribs provided sufficient illumination for the officials to scan the interior of the space.

Mulder stepped forward, seeking any clue to the building's previous functions, before turning to speak to Scully. "Do you have the universal counter handy?" The frozen expression of fear brought him back to bend over her immediately. "What? Were you here, Scully?"

Nodding slowly, she sank to her knees, then, as the others watched, began crawling around on the dark red concrete floor, lost in a sudden flood of painful remembrances. "I stared at these drains. There was one by every gurney, and I spent several hours each day on my side, gazing at the floor. I couldn't move, but I don't know why, I just lay there, focusing on the star-shaped pattern of holes."

Dropping to his knees beside his partner, Mulder began whispering to Scully, his hand on her back.

Hawkins quickly deployed the rest to examine the exterior of the building, trying to give the Agents some privacy. The Ranger found himself wondering for the second time what the personal connections the pair seemed to have to this investigation were. Concentrating on scanning the putative crime scene by walking along a row of silver covers over the little depressions in the floor, he sensed the formation of an idea. _Yes, Ed, that's what bothered you._

He faced the pair on the floor. "Agents, this reminds me more of a slaughter-house than an assembly line for locomotive engines. Drilling this many narrow holes through two-foot thick concrete takes days of effort." The Ranger noticed that Mulder had shuddered visibly at his choice of words, while Scully had shown no response at all, so he stopped. _This *is* personal. Someone close to them *was* kidnapped and held here, just as I had thought. Time for us to make our excuses and go._ Hawkins found himself wondering if Parker had deliberately dodged this assignment, given his contacts in Washington.

The Ranger used his hand radio to call the others in. "Boys, what we have here is obviously a false alarm; there haven't been any electronics stored here since RCA stopped making vacuum tubes. I think we can leave the FBI to its work."

While Hawkins shepherded the rest out the door, Mulder nodded his thanks to him as he shifted to shield the silent woman next to him from the outside. The dark-haired agent rubbed her spine, hoping the contact would bring her focus from deep within her. "Scully?"

She blinked. "Mulder?" She was back from wherever she had been with her hand held out to him. "Pass me your pocketknife."

"Sure." He pulled his body up straight to fish for it in his jeans pocket. "Here."

As she took it from him, she removed an evidence bag from her jacket, then began prying up one cover with the can opener by wedging the hook under it.

Mulder noticed her hands were shaking as she lifted the counter from her jacket to pass it over the hole. He was further alarmed when she needed several attempts before she could scoop the brown gunk out of the drain and into the pouch. "Are you feeling okay, Scully?"

"Of course, Mulder." Her lips firmly pressed together, she continued to transfer the noxious residue to the plastic sack, until it was on the verge of overflowing.

Her compulsion worried Mulder deeply, so he reached for her elbow, but she jumped backwards and to her feet when he touched her. The bag fell to the concrete, the impact debouching the contents to cover the red handle of his fallen knife.

"Scully?" He stood to approach her, but pulled his hands away at her glare.

"Mulder, I'm fine!"

Her partner recognized that she was clinging to the professional facade of Agent Scully, the routine and the ordered analysis, to keep her demons at bay.

"Scully?"

"If there were operations performed here on humans, then there should be tissues, hair, and possible drug signatures in the drains. It wasn't radioactive."

He nodded, holding out one hand. _Let her keep it together a little longer._ "Okay, Scully, okay. Pass me the counter, and I'll try sweeping the rest of the area." As she handed the unit over, her shoulders drooped, so he knew she was functioning at her limits of control. Once he had established a respectable distance between them, he glanced over his shoulder to see she was working on the next drain, forcing herself into total concentration.

_I know that look, Scully._ He had seen it last in Minneapolis, while she marched into a morgue to perform an autopsy that has shaken her to her core, before he lost her to Donnie Phaster. It hurt him as much to see this particular mask now as it had then. When he reached the far corner of the vast space, the meter needle swung all the way to the right. "Scully! Come here!"

-o-0-o-

Georgetown Hospital  
Washington, DC  
Friday, 12:18 pm

At the resident's call, Lindhauer trotted down the crowded corridor.

"She's in here, Mr. Lindhauer."

He had been fearful for his colleague when he had found her intensive care bed empty.

'Ace' waved him over to her side in her new private room, pointing to a line on the screen of her laptop when he reached her. "I think I've fixed my problem, come see."

He listened to her explanation for several minutes, but finally, he had to interrupt the stream of C++ that issued ceaselessly from her. "'Ace', stop, please, we have to talk."

She froze. "Is it about 'Charlie'?" At his nod, she closed the application before powering down the unit.

"He's in love with you, isn't he?" He watched her head bob. "'Andrew' and I were afraid of that. How do you feel about him?"

She clasped her hands in her lap. _Personal relations are much harder than software to debug. _"I don't know."

The admission was genuine, offered without rancor or artifice, just like the woman he knew and respected, so Lindhauer waited while she stared out at the warehouse.

"I'm flattered, really."

He sensed her hesitation. "But?"

She focused on him. "No buts. 'Charlie' is the first guy to admit to an attraction to me, and while it may sound trite to an old heart-breaker like you-" She tossed her hair. "-it feels strange and wonderful all at once." 'Ace' smiled, allowing Lindhauer to read the joy in her eyes. "The years I was in college and graduate school, guys were only interested in talking to me long enough to use my suggestions for their projects, then they were gone, chasing some empty-headed blonde. You three had sought me out, and over the past year, I was hoping you were becoming my friends, but I never expected anything like this." She beamed, sobering as she glimpsed his darkening face. "You think I should discourage him, don't you?"

Lindhauer patted her shoulder. "I don't know what to think or say, frankly. He's ecstatic he's finally told you, and you seem thrilled. But we have so much we need to recover, we must focus all our energies on the Organization, not each other."

She nodded. "I understand, believe me, I do. 'Charlie' is so sweet, I can't fathom how he earned Black Lung's backing."

Lindhauer shrugged. "A surrogate son thing? He reminded him of someone? Beats me."

She tried to rub under her cast. "As long as it doesn't interfere with the Project, I suppose we could see where he wants to go with this." 'Ace' smiled again, but it was a wistful, almost mournful, expression. "Knowing my luck, it's probably a passing fancy that will fade when acted upon, which is better than it festering for years and years, dividing us further." She shook her head. "That sounds so cold and calculating." Confused, she looked to her colleague. "I think too much like one of my machines sometimes, don't I?"

Sighing, he patted her arm before he began seeking her inputs on the rest of the Group's decisions.

-o-0-o-

RF&P Warehouse  
Friday, 12:26 pm

As Scully pulled his hand down so she could read the meter, she dropped his pocketknife in his jacket pocket. "I set it to the most sensitive level for the drains, Mulder. Here."

Relieved he had provided her something to focus on besides her past suffering, he surrendered the unit to her. When she repeatedly punched a red button on the side, Mulder, afraid she was withdrawing again, reached for her shoulder, but she was only changing the detection range.

Finished, Scully pointed the counter directly at the floor while he transferred the knife back to his jeans. "This is the highest setting, and it seems it was right here. Look." When she stepped to her right, the needle flipped to the left side of the meter.

Mulder shifted to face her from the other side of the hot spot. "Let me have the unit back, Scully."

After she passed the sensor to him, he checked the needle, but even while the rads there were elevated, they were far lower than in the center location. "You're right, the implants must have been stored in a cabinet, but I don't see marks on the floor." He looked up.

Her eyes were unfocused again. "It is in a tall cart with wheels, all metal tubes, with glass shelves and sides." She held her arm out at waist level. "About this high. Everything here is on wheels. I wish I could move so I could leave." She jumped as someone rapped on the open door frame.

It was Hawkins again, making Mulder wonder how much he had overheard. The Ranger lifted off his green hat to scratch his heightening forehead. "I wouldn't hang around here too long, folks. We've had reports of bears and coyotes in this area."

Mulder glanced down at her, but Scully barely sensed the Ranger's presence, so he replied with a tight smile. "Thanks." He held up one marked hand. "We've had our own adventures with coyotes we'd not like to repeat any time soon. We'll stay a little longer though; there might still be something here we should check out." The Agent saluted him.

Hawkins sent Scully one last concerned look before he turned. "As long as you folks are certain." He called over his shoulder before he left.

Mulder watched through the entrance as he heard a car door bang, then the last vehicle outside pull away. When he turned back to his partner, he gasped as he crossed over to kneel in front of her.

Scully was crouching, rocking on her toes as she hugged herself.

He grasped both her shoulders, calling her name, but this time she did not flinch or fight. He knew she was wandering deep in her own past again, that this time, it would be a struggle to pull her back. "Talk to me."

Her eyes were dilated, but she obeyed his desperate plea as quickly as if she were a new recruit in basic training. "It was right here." She was whispering, forcing him to lean close to hear her, even in this silence. "Every one of us is wheeled over here and - Oh!" She jerked and grimaced as she rubbed the back of her neck. "It didn't hurt as much as the other tests. I wonder what it is?" Tipping her head back, she pointed up at the sun's disk that had moved into view through the skylight overhead. "Look, the moon is out and it's full. I must have been here another month, then." She chewed her lip. "It must be October for it to be this bright."

_If she stares at it any longer, she'll burn out her retinas._ Mulder blocked the sun from her eyes with one hand, reaching with the other to tip her head upright.

Before he could touch her, she doubled over, arms wrapped around her stomach. "They said there wouldn't be any pain, but there is!" A tear dropped to the floor. "Everything hurts here. But they're finished." She began crawling, moving purposefully across the space until she reached a spot that had meaning for her. "I'm back at my station. I hate my station, I have no skylight to see out of."

Since she had huddled there, he stood and approached her, listening silently as she recounted her horrors.

"If only I could move! I've counted the ceiling tiles and columns to the door so many times, I could escape at night when they leave us alone, if I could just walk away!"

He settled down, his legs out straight. Grasping her shoulders, he guided her onto her side, resting her head on his knees where he could watch her face. "I'm here with you. Go on." _She went through this alone once, as did Sam, but she doesn't have to be alone when she goes through it again._ Struggling with his own remembered suffering, he placed a pocket recorder on the concrete by his hip to save the memories for them to analyze later.

"They are waiting for mature ova. They need three, but they don't want to use fertility drugs because the chemicals may cause unhealthy mutations, so here I stay. They've promised to send me on after they have three good samples."

Mulder crouched over her, wrapping one hand around the crown of her head. _Send her on? Along the route on the map or somewhere permanent?_ "Why do they want your eggs?"

She frowned. "It's part of one of my chromosomes they want, not the eggs. One ovum for reference, one in case of a problem, one for testing and for development, they said. They keep talking about the Luck of the Irish, and all I want to do is scream and hit them, but I *can't* *move*!"

He straightened, stroking her hair as he thought. _The Irish? Margaret Scully? But she was never brought here. Would Scully have carried this gene?_ Her stomach rumbled, making Mulder smile, thinking that they would have to find a decent diner after this was over. _When was the last time either of you ate, yesterday? Wednesday? Maybe you can use food to bring her back to the present._ "Wake up and we'll have some lunch, okay?" When she curled into a tight little ball, he gasped at the suffering his attempt at kindness had caused his partner.

"I can't eat. Any meats have too many hormones; they'll disturb my cycles. Grains are out, too, they said. Too many drugs. I only have vegetables grown in chemical-free soil, with triply filtered air and water, and none for the next three days. Only purified water until I ovulate."

Mulder moved the hair off her face. _They starved you for no reason, none at all._ He licked his lips, almost afraid to speak to her again. "What else, Scully, can you tell me?"

She jerked when he whispered her name. "I don't have a name here. No one knows or cares that I'm Dana Katherine Scully, that I have a medical degree or am an FBI agent." She shuddered. "Here I'm only a number, number 25101415. I see it on the back of the folder at the foot of my bed. I would love to hear my Mom call me Dana or Honey. Even Scully would be good." She smiled. "I'll never be angry with my partner for calling me that again. He only uses Scully." She mimicked him. "Sculleeee!" She sighed. "Then he would spout some absolutely insane idea. I wish he were here to say anything now. I would tell him it's all true, just to hear him stammer in surprise." More tears, one rolling over the bridge of her nose, the other down across her temple and into his jeans. "Oh, Mulder, where are you? I need you."

Mulder bent over until his mouth was on her ear. "I *am* here, you're safe, you can come back now."

But she was still stranded in her past, so she responded as from that dark time. "No! Don't say that! Don't lie to me again! I'm not all right! You strapped me down, poked me with needles, prodded my nerves with electricity until I'm so sore I feel like I'm on fire! What do you want from me? My ova?" A gurgling snort escaped her. "Take them, take them all and be done with it! I want to leave, can't you see? I want out!" She struck him in the chest.

He grunted at her strength. _Yes, they should want those genes for sure, partner._ He tried to contain her swatting hands, but they dropped to the floor.

She began keening. "More tests, more injections? Why? You said I could leave now. Why more tests?"

Mulder held her up by her shoulders. _She's right, no more._ "Scully, come back now. This is enough. Come back to me, please." He shook her once.

But she was still lost. "Do you want me to stop working with Mulder, is that why I'm here? I won't! I can't! There is so much hidden that needs to be exposed. So many questions to be answered. You can't hide it all forever!"

Mulder was desperate, terrified he would lose her for good in her past, so he shouted in his fear and frustration. "Scully! You're safe! It's not real!"

She jerked and gasped, finally returning to the present, shifting until she was supporting her own weight. As Mulder kept one hand on her shoulder, Scully wrapped her arms around her knees, focusing on her partner again. "What did I say, Mulder?" Her eyes fell on the tape recorder, the white gears still revolving. "I need to know."

His voice was gentle and hushed. "If it starts to bother you too much, I'll stop it, okay?" At her nod, he rewound the tape, then pressed the play button.

She listened carefully, but her face remained clear throughout. "I was an experimental subject with all those MUFON women, Mulder."

Grasping her hand, he nodded. "And Sam. I'm convinced Sam must have been tested too, or else they couldn't have generated all those clones." He thought back to Phoenix, to their poolside conversation. "But why your genes, Scully? There must be millions of women of Irish descent in America, After all, the Scotch-Irish are one of the largest ethnic groups we have, so any one of them ought to do."

As he tucked the black recorder away, she shrugged. "A unique mutation I'm not aware of in my family? I couldn't say, Mulder." Rubbing her arms, she reacted to feeling the cold in the vast building through her wet clothes. "We should leave."

Mulder helped his partner to her feet, supporting her with one arm around her shoulders. "Whenever you need."

She frowned at the deep concern in his eyes. "Oh. I don't mean because of me." She reached up to pat the hand curled around her upper arm. "I'm sorry I've frightened you so, Mulder."

He shook his head. _Don't worry about that, Scully._

Her clear gaze fixed on his shifting hazel irises. "I don't mean that this isn't uncomfortable for me, it is; however, my memories and your tape recorder may be the only way we will ever know. But Hawkins was right when he said this building isn't safe from wild animals."

He nodded. "Sure." _She'll never admit it when something hurts too much._ "Let's check the electrical service to the building before we go. If they were running all the electronics and lighting you remember, then there should be as many breakers as in a stadium or two. You'll be all right?"

Nodding, she walked on her own beside him while they headed to the back, where the Rangers had jumped Mulder earlier in the day.

-o-0-o-

RF&P Warehouse  
Friday, 2:03 pm

Scully frowned at the tall shiny grey box. "It looks new."

After they both noted the absence of corrosion on the chrome handle, Mulder yanked the door open. "Yup, and mostly 440 Volt, 3 phase power at that."

"Right. Just what you would expect for heavy machine tools and an assembly line, not the voltage most medical equipment runs off of. But, look, Mulder." She pointed out a dark, unweathered rectangle, centered on holes cut though the wall.

"Hunh. That would have been for the extra circuits. They've been here, covering up their tracks, although it hasn't been that long ago." He ran his hand over the top of the breaker box and held it out. "Just a little dirt, see?"

She nodded. "There's no reason to run a new service into a deserted building like this. I'm not surprised the Rangers thought it was still in use; that box must have been proof for them."

He shook his head. "We're too late again, Scully. We've chased the route to here, but we still have no evidence ourselves. What?"

She was biting her lip. "Yes, we do. I'd like to collect more samples from the drains. I've pulled out enough different-colored hairs that I think we were on the right track before I lost it." She winced. "I'm sorry, Mulder, I'll try to hold together better."

Taking her by the elbow, he shook his head. "Don't be. This may be the only way we learn anything. That block of yours is still in place, I think, since you've only passed on personal observations, not clinical details. You're sure you want to go back in there?"

Her head bobbed, so they reentered the warehouse. While they were scraping, filling and labeling, tremors ran through the building, then a train raced by on tracks less than fifty yards behind the structure. Mulder checked his partner, then hurried to her side from the far end of the space. She was wide-eyed with fright again, so he tried rubbing her arms to reassure her where they knelt, but it was no use. He had lost her to her horrors another time.

While he waited, she went rigid. "The tests are finished on me. They came back negative. I don't have it; I've failed; I'm unacceptable. They won't be sending me on with the others." She pulled away from him, staring out the back door at the empty tracks. "They've gone, but I'll never leave this place. I'm no good at all." Scully began shuddering with her remembered terror. "No, not the virus, please. I don't want to be changed. Just send me home. I won't tell anyone anything."

Mulder thought of her branched DNA, how she had struggled back to life. "Changed? How?"

Now her head began weaving back and forth, so he stopped. They had hit her block, so they would learn no more today. Instead, she was walking deliberately back to the spot she had called her station. "It's too late. They've started the procedure. I need to keep very still, so it won't hurt so much. This way the room doesn't spin, and my head won't pound."

Mulder remembered the motionless, silent body in the hospital, nearly losing himself in the raw emotions that had possessed him at that time. _Focus, G-man, focus, she needs you now more than ever._ He clenched his jaw, forcing them back down, until only a deep ache remained. But it was a new sorrow, stemming from the image of his vital, active partner, so fever-ridden from the retrovirus used on her she couldn't move her foot or shift her hand.

"Oh." She jerked. "Something's wrong. It's not working the way they want. Oh!" She staggered. "It's not working at all. I've failed in this too. Now I'll be punished, like those other women were." She sank to her knees again.

Mulder knelt to pull her head against his shoulder, rocking her in his arms. He dropped his face against her neck, then inhaled deeply, fearing to ask what would have been considered a suitable chastisement for the cold, naked, half-starved woman she had been. "You were right, Scully, this *was* a continuation of the Nazi agenda, whatever the justification. This is torture for no reason at all. Come back. Knowing isn't worth this, not for you." The fear and sympathy in his muffled voice reached her.

"Mul-der?"

He lifted his head at her quiet call. "I'm here."

Swallowing, she focused on his hooded eyes. "I'm sorry. I lost it again, didn't I?"

He smiled a hopeless, forced grin. "Only a little. We should go; I think we have enough bags of goo for several hundred tests."

She raised an eyebrow. "Right. If I need more, I can always check your bathroom out."

As tremendous relief shone from his faces, he chuckled. "Anytime, Scully. After all, you clean for free."

"Mulder!" She fired a weak version of the Look at his joke, so, believing she was finding her way out of the darkness, he released her, but as she inhaled, she shuddered. "That smell!" She pushed herself to her feet, reaching for her gun. "*He* was here then too!" She drew her weapon, pointing it at the door.

Mulder rose to begin to block her, afraid she might fire on the concerned Hawkins, returning to check on them, but then he smelled the Morley tobacco aroma. He responded as instinctively as she, whirling and leveling his SIG at the door. "You!"

The man puffed once, then exhaled, firing a curling stream from his nostrils to intersect the plume rising from the end of the Morley he held at his chest.

Her gun shaking in her hatred, Scully was shouting. "He watches, Mulder, he comes in and stands by my gurney, smoking and watching, just like he used to do when I had to report to Blevins."

Mulder spared a glance of surprise at her admission, but his rage that his old enemy had escaped justice overwhelmed his other emotions. "What did your Fascist doctors do to Scully?" His tenor dropped to an angry growl. "Why are you still alive?"

The old spy rolled his eyes. "Must we do this every time we meet, Mister Mulder? Agent Scully, in her present state, I understand, but you? Do you have any idea how much I have helped you?" He raised both arms, a flurry of ashes cascading from the end of the paper cylinder to the floor, leaving grey flecks on a brick red background. "As usual, you are the only ones with the weapons. Do you want my help, or should I leave, and allow the goons my young former associates have ordered here to work you two over?"

Mulder blinked. "What are you talking about?"

The old man sighed. "There is a squadron of rather well-muscled young men headed this way, with orders to make your sleep very uncomfortable for the next few weeks." He paused, letting his eyes trail slowly from one pair of scarred hands to the other. "Are either of you prepared for that?"

But Mulder, still incensed, edged closer to his partner. "You're lying, you, you - " He cast around in his mind for the phrase his Mother had used. " - Ancient Chimney."

The Man with the Morleys recognized the reference, a look of surprise spreading over his wrinkled features. "Fox, don't you remember?" His gaze turned inwards, back through time. "No, of course you wouldn't. You never woke up during any one of my visits, only when you thought I was that monster who was your Father." He steadied his nerves with a long drag on the cigarette. "Ask your Mother how she finally earned her citizenship."

Lowering her handgun, Scully turned to her partner. "I think I know what he's talking about, Mulder. Your Mother and I..." She reached out to touch his side where she knew there was a scar from emergency surgery over two decades earlier.

But the tall agent backed up, horrified, deep in paranoid denial. "No! I owe you nothing! Nothing at all! Tell me what you did to Scully, now!"

As she heard their BMW moving away up the broken gravel road, she spun around to face the door. "Who is that? Where is he taking our car?" She lifted her weapon and assumed her shooting stance beside Mulder.

The old man raised his hands higher. "Just my associate removing your vehicle to a safe location. If my former subordinates know what you drove up here, then they can follow you after you leave, can't they? Come with me, before the party starts, would you?"

Mulder stalked forward, bringing the SIG a fraction of an inch from the old man's forehead. "No! We won't go with you. Then you'd have us in your power, and we would end up as two unidentifiable corpses found fifty years later at the bottom of one of those ravines out there!"

The man stepped back. "Mister Mulder, use those extremely expensive brains of yours for a second. If I wanted you dead, how hard do you think that would have been? An assassin in the dark would have required only one bullet to finish you, either standing over your sofa, or while you were on one of those ridiculously foolish late-night runs you torture yourself with."

Scully drew a deep, shuddering breath as she detected the faint sounds of other engines traveling down the only road out of their location. "He's right, we should go with him."

Not believing his ears, the tall agent turned to face his partner. "Why? He's tried to kill us before. Why should we trust him now?" The old spy attempted to approach the younger man, but Mulder leveled the gun at his nose. "Stay back! I mean it!"

The Smoking Man raised his hands again. "After last time, I have no doubt you do, Agent Mulder."

As the SIG lowered, Mulder focused back on Scully as he drew his eyebrows together. "Why?" The voice was level, the question earnest.

She blinked twice, then answered succinctly. "Because of what he wanted to tell you on New Year's Eve. He knows what happened to Sam and where she is now."

Mulder spun on his heel to stalk at the man, who shrank back before him. "Is what she says correct? Were you watching as they tested both Scully and Sam?"

The old man shrugged. "What if I was, Fox? What if I was?"

Mulder raised the gun again. "Tell me where she is now, or else!" Over his partner's protests, he cocked the trigger.

The burning weed was dashed to the floor, where it rolled into one of the open drain holes. "There's no time for this, don't you understand?"

But Mulder was lost in the chase. _I'm so close!_ "Where is my sister? Where is Sam?"

The man gave in to his rage. "*Safe*! That's all you need to know! It was good enough for Caroline and Bill, why isn't it good enough for you, Fox?"

The agent's face softened. "You took her, wiped her memories of me and our time together, made clones of her body, why won't you tell me where she is?" The longing radiated from his eyes, suffusing his voice.

The auburn-haired woman was adamant. "*Mulder*! Someone's coming! We have to leave with him, *now*!"

He faced the door, waving the gun at the empty air when he heard the squealing tires and roaring engines for the first time. "What are those?"

Scully kept tugging on Mulder's arm, until the three raced out through the rear, just as the group of black vehicles stopped, latches clicked free. The sedan that had struck Amanda waited. Scully spotted the hair and blood on the front right fender as she hustled Mulder past it towards the rear passenger side. She suppressed a sudden wave of nausea long enough to force them both within, slamming the door.

After a quick glance in the rear-view mirror to convince himself that both his passengers were secure, the old spy gunned the engine. He pressed the accelerator pedal, the black sedan swung around the warehouse, then shot off down the mountain road.

Scully narrowed her eyes at their driver. _Who is this man? Would we be better off trying to shoot our way out? Will we end up as those skeletons Mulder mentioned after all?_

The others, surprised to hear a car driving away, poured back out of the warehouse to stare at the sedan's rear, momentarily confused. The leader shouted, so they reentered their low, sleek vehicles, beginning the pursuit. But the old man had made many trips up and down the mountain, so, soon he had taken so many twisting back roads that the others had given up the chase in hopeless confusion.

Mulder, however, had lost all interest in whether they would escape safely or not, since the strain of remembering had destroyed the last of his partner's reserve and control. As if they were still alone in the warehouse, he focused solely on her.

All she saw was the blood and tissue clinging to the vehicle as she had pressed her head into the back of the front passenger seat, shivering. _I've delivered my partner into the hands of a remorseless killer._

"Scully, it's okay." He slipped one arm under her shoulders while she struggled, fully aware that purging air, as her body was demanding she do, would bring her no relief. Hovering over her, he was horrified that the past few months had brought her this low. "You'll be all right. We'll get through this."

As he rubbed her back, she covered her face with both hands. "I'm sorry, Mulder. It's my fault."

He frowned. _What does she mean?_

She pushed herself up until she was leaning on the seat back, white-faced and drained. "I didn't think this would happen."

He moved his hand to her shoulder. "Hey, that's usually my line."

Their driver had watched them in the rear-view mirror silently, but now he added his approval. "She's saved your life, as usual, Mister Mulder, you *should* take good care of her."

The agent snarled at him. "What did your butchers do to her?"

The old man lit another Morley. "How should I know? I'm no doctor. But we have to be ready, which is why your Father authorized the Project in the first place."

Scully lifted her head off the vinyl. "Ready for an invasion? Is that what all these tests, the mutation experiments and secret technologies are for?" Her voice was still hoarse.

His reply was almost inaudible. "Perhaps. It's been so many years since I was really sure, Agent Scully."

Mulder hooked his hands over the front seat to try to look the driver in the face. "How many? Why didn't you tell the American people when you *were* sure? Why did you hide the truth?"

The old man rolled his eyes. "Listen to yourselves! Think what would happen if you were to step forward and say you had evidence that there was an invasion coming from the heavens at some indeterminate time in the future. You would be either laughed off, locked up, or accused of trying to cause mass hysteria. It was enough to hide in the shadow of the Cold War, until Gorbachev started his *Perestroika* nonsense." He snorted. "Look what *openness* did to his country. We can't risk that here." The old man glared at the male Agent, determined to throw the Hunter off the scent. "Your Mother is a fine woman, Mister Mulder." He knew it had worked when the younger man glowered at him.

"Just what are you to my Mother?"

He drew on his Morley, the circle of red advancing towards his lips. "Only a friend, nothing more. I helped her, and you, once. She deserved better than your Father, and than myself, Fox." He gripped the steering wheel, refusing to respond to any more of Mulder's entreaties or threats, until he turned the car into a rest stop. "We've crossed back into Virginia on I-77." He pointed with one index finger, leaving the others wrapped around the steering wheel. "There's your BMW. My associate drove it here for you, just as I said he would."

Mulder squinted at the bald man leaving the car. "Who is that?"

The man with the Morleys chuckled. "That would be telling, Mister Mulder, just go. The tides of power have ebbed away from me, leaving me stranded. All I can do now is try to protect you and Agent Scully, as I promised I would. My time will come again."

The agents exited, but Mulder's dark hair popped back into view. "How do I know you won't shoot me the next time we meet?"

The old man blew a long blue stream into his face. "You don't. Consider this a Christmas Day Truce, just like 1914. Don't forget your own motto, it's a good one in this business, but not as original as you might believe. I may not be so helpful when we meet again."

Scully tugged his elbow harder until he yielded, following her to the import, but both watched as the black car drove off. She squeezed his arm gently. "Mulder?"

He focused on her.

Scully pointed at the BMW. "We should assume they planted a bug in there."

Nodding, he walked around the car, guiding her by the shoulder to one of the cold benches. "What do you think, is he really out of power?"

Aching and exhausted, she rubbed her face with both hands. "For now. But I'd use him, just as he's used us, if we can. Otherwise, with X unable or unwilling to contact you, we have no access to the inner workings of the Shadows, nor do we even know their names, outside of McConnell."

He sighed, watching the few travelers trotting up to the public restrooms. "I suppose you're right." He leaned over her. "Will you be okay, Scully?"

She took a deep breath. "I don't know. But I would like to clean up a little."

"Sure thing."

They walked up to stand in line behind the others, more bleary-eyed than the rest. While she was still waiting behind a half-dozen impatient mothers with cranky toddlers, Mulder sent his partner an ironic little grin as he pulled the wide door open.

-o-0-o-

Luther slid into the passenger seat as the agents watched, but he remained silent while the Smoking Man backed out, then they left the agents behind.

When he had awakened to a familiar smell and the old spy's visage, hovering over him in the night, he had believed he was seeing a ghost. A few quick jabs at his old superior's rock-hard gut had taught him otherwise. He decided, then and there, that this man had what it took to survive the changes in power, so he would link his fortunes to his, just to stay alive.

But, Luther was curious. "Why did you let them live?"

The old man snorted. "Don't you understand? For a host of completely reversible reasons, they are in the ascendancy right now, not the Organization. So we help them, and by helping them, we weaken the others, until such time as we can be in control again. Then, we can turn the Project back to its original purpose. But, I've cast seeds of doubt in the minds of the FBI, so they too, will be off-balance, and we can shape them to our own ends. Are you sure no one suspects I am still alive?"

Luther nodded. "Your former agent and the Four think they only have each other to worry about."

He eyed the man in the passenger seat. "Good, then when I return you to DC, this is what I want you to do..."

-o-0-o-

Piedmont Motor Inn  
Wakefield, Virginia  
Friday, 10:24 pm

"Okay, thanks for the directions." Mulder took the room key from the motel clerk, nodded, then hurried back to the car. He had left Scully there, moving back and forth from consciousness into the fitful state she had revisited in the warehouse. Each time she awoke, she would be frightened and confused. Now, he just wanted to find some haven for her to come to be herself again, but this rat-hole off US Highway 460 would have to be it. _She'll be okay, G-man. She *has* to be._ Forcing his fears out of his mind, he opened the car door, then knelt by her. "Hey."

She looked over at him, her green-blue eyes clouded but focused. "How much further do we have to go?"

He pointed at the long row of tiny rooms. "About twenty yards. Think you can handle that?"

At any other time, she would have been insulted, or he would have been teasing, but this time she was worried, while he was very serious. She swung her feet out of the car. "Lay on, James."

He wrapped his arm around her waist to help her up. It didn't matter that the room had only one double bed, or no view of the entrance. All she needed was sleep now, rest to strengthen her will so she could deal with the flood of images pouring from her subconscious into her waking mind. He propped her against the car as he retrieved their bags, then locked the vehicle.

She regarded the low building warily. "Which room?"

He pointed again. "173, just six doors down, okay?"

She nodded, chewing her lip as she stepped forward, slowly but deliberately, before he could wrap his arm around her again.

He shortened his stride to stay with her. They moved along the sidewalk in silence, until he grasped her elbow. "This is it, Scully."

She leaned into his hand while he unlocked the door, then pushed it open.

Waiting for her to move, he bowed slightly. "Ma'am?"

She surveyed their temporary quarters. "The Ritz-Carlton, Mulder."

He let himself grin at her joke, since that was exactly what this place was not. Whatever color the walls had once been, a coating of the exhaust from the endless stream of vehicles on the highway, mixed with the grease from the motel diner, concealed it for all time. The room was narrow, no more than eight feet wide, so the double bed was jammed in the corner, directly in front of the entrance. In the narrow space between the bed and the pocket bathroom door was one rickety particle-board table supporting a brass lamp, green in spots, with a bent harp and dusty shade.

Immediately to the left upon entering the room was a fold-down wall-mounted table-top, its linoleum laminate yellowed and dimpled. A single chromed aluminum folding chair, the plastic cushions shiny with grime, was shoved into the corner. A shelf, supporting the twelve inch black and white TV, with a tensioning rod mounted underneath, positioned over a wall-mounted phone and the foot of the bed, was the room's closet. Neither of them wanted to check the bathroom at the moment, but the sign at the highway had advertised 'clean', so they could hope for reasonably sanitary with fresh towels and hot water, when the situation called for it.

She sagged onto the edge of the broken-down mattress, resting her head in her hands as she leaned against the wall. "Sorry, Mulder, this is as far as I go tonight." Scully glanced up at the rusted coat hangers, but found she was unable to do more than drop her jacket off her shoulders onto the threadbare tan carpet.

He set their bags in front of the chair , then joined her. "No problem, this is as far as either of us go." He rubbed her spine. "If you want to sleep, go ahead."

Nodding, she walked around him to the head of the bed, unlacing her boots before she crawled in to covers barely turned down. "At least we won't be wet and cold." Curling up, she sighed. "There was only this room left?"

Mulder slid up beside Scully, grasping her shoulder as he switched on the brass lamp. He wanted to watch her face for any recurrence of the terror, the only sign that would precede the recovery of more of her memories. "No, but with what could be coming after us, I wanted us together." He glanced back at the door. "It's circle the wagons time, pardner."

While her eyes remained closed, one corner of her mouth twitched, grateful for his joke. "Right. How much do you think we can trust *him*?" She felt him stand before tucking the blanket and the surprisingly clean, sweet-smelling sheets more tightly around her, so she opened her eyes. _I'll be all right, Mulder._

He stared at her, deeply fearful that she had forgotten their previous conversation. "As far as he said, until he sees the tide turn, then the truce is over. We won't know when that is, I don't think, so you rest. We need to be ready." He squeezed her shoulder again before straightening.

"Yes." She glanced at the bathroom, then slid out from under the covers. "I'll be the first victim."

He grinned as she disappeared behind the pocket door. When she emerged, he was in the chair, his feet propped on their bags, his gun in his lap.

Scully slipped back under the blankets, watching him stare somberly out the window. "Thanks, Mulder."

His head swiveled, then he regarded her with shadowed eyes. "Why are you thanking me, Scully? If you'd never been assigned to me, if you'd never trusted me, you never would have been taken, and you wouldn't be suffering like this." He stared at the holstered weapon, "You wouldn't be tested and tortured, and without a sister." He propped his chin on his hand, resting his elbow on the dusty windowsill to look back at the trucks whizzing by on the two-lane road.

She pushed herself off the bed to stagger down its length, taking a seat at the foot. "I'm thanking you for more than you can know."

He dropped his arm to his lap, then turned to face her. "Scully, you don't have to..."

She shook her head. "I used to blame you for Missy, until we thought your Mother had died. Helping you through that grief gave me the strength to release my own."

His jaw clenched.

She covered his hand with hers. "But it wasn't your fault, anymore than my abduction was. I think from what the doctors were saying as they worked on me, I was supposed to have some rare recessive gene they needed. I, or Missy, probably would have been taken at one time or another anyway."

He leaned towards her. In those hazel windows to his soul, she saw one of his burdens of guilt begin to dissolve. "Really? Are you sure?"

She shrugged. "As sure as I can be of anything I remember from that time." She frowned, rubbing the red spots on her hand. "But, they should have known. There was an article by a research group at NIH in NEJM about a year ago. I won't bother you with the medical jargon, Mulder, but basically, what they were looking for runs in Irish families, in dark-haired women only."

He dropped his feet to the floor. "Your Mom has it?" She nodded, but her partner was frowning. "But that means none of her children inherited it?"

Scully glanced at the threadbare, tan carpet. "Missy wasn't born a blonde, Mulder. She started dying her hair in high school."

He turned back to the window. "They killed the one who would have had it." He heard her shift, then faced her again.

His partner, who had been focused and reasoning just moments earlier, was choking and reddening, crumbling inside herself.

He moved over to her, letting the gun fall to the floor, then pulled her into his arms. "Hey, it's okay, you're not alone against this."

Scully made no effort to reach around him, but just leaned limply against him, her face hidden in the crook of his arm.

Mulder rocked his partner, stroking her hair and rubbing her back while she shivered against his chest. _I couldn't be there to save you then, but I can be here for you now, Scully._ When the worst was over, he carried her up to the head of the bed, settling her on the pillows, then pulling the blankets to her chin. He slouched on top of the covers, sliding one arm behind her shoulders, staying close until she was through the rest of the terror.

She had thrown one arm over his stomach, pressing tightly into his side, sometimes crying a little, moving her lips without making a sound. Then, the implanted block swept away, she would speak in a clear voice, recounting details of procedures into his tape recorder he was unsure he could ever listen to again. Finally, the furor within her stilled, so she went limp against him.

He gathered the covers tightly around her. _Rest is what you need, Scully._ He began to move away, to return to his post guarding the door, but she tightened her arm around him, so he smiled. _Okay. You don't have to ask twice._ He lowered his face to her ear. "I'll be right back."

Scully nodded, then released him enough so he could rise and cross the room to draw the curtains and retrieve his weapon before returning to her.

Mulder knew he wouldn't be free to move for hours. He ached from their scramble through the cold, wet woods, from the knowledge that the slumber he was fighting off would have been recovery for him, too. He pushed the pin through the lamp to cast the room in darkness, knowing she would sleep through the rising of the sun. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he patted his SIG on the nightstand, then checked her face a final time.

As the silence deepened, his mind drifted along deep currents of thought. He smiled at the memories of his nights over the past five years, reaching a simple, but unshakable conclusion. Whether he had finagled a snooze on her couch, or had propped the adjoining door between their hotel rooms open, he always slept better when she was close by.

He didn't know if his ease came from the pleasant associations with his sister, or his much-denied human nature as a social animal. _You would say it came from our ancestors, who lived, ate, and slept in a group, Scully._ But it was not time for the rest his body craved, now he would watch and guard, protecting his partner until she was strong enough to stand by his side again.

-o-0-o-

Georgetown Hospital  
Washington, DC  
Saturday, February 8, 1997  
2:14 pm

Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda caught a wiggling, orange object hovering in her doorway. She closed her laptop as she giggled. _I'm insane, letting this go on, but it feels so good._ "Drew, if you bring me any more stuffed animals, I'll have to start giving them away to the kids with leukemia on the fifth floor!"

His round face appeared above the tiger, delighted at this new side of her. "Well, in that case-" He swept the assorted cats, zebras, and bears off the mattress, then spun on his heel. "-I will act as your courier."

"No, wait!"

He looked back over his shoulder.

"Not yet. When I leave, okay?"

"Sure. Actually it won't just be me stopping by today. 'Finn' and 'Andrew' will swing by in about fifteen minutes."

She shook the striped tail on the new tiger. "Oh, what's up?"

Drew pulled the hospital chair closer and sat. "Mulder and Scully have slipped past our men, Lisa."

She stared at the warehouse for a few minutes. "Oh. That's bad. We can't sanitize too much more of the route before compromising ongoing operations. These older parts, sure, but we need to keep the trains running, and the experiments on schedule, until the transition is complete. After last year, when Mulder almost bought it, you know they both understand that."

He nodded. "And they're still too well protected by Matheson for us to touch them." Tentatively, he reached over to take her hand, interlacing his fingers in hers.

She smiled and squeezed back. "'Finn''s picked up nothing new working there?"

He was focused on their hands. "Hum?"

She shook them. "'Finn'? Matheson?"

He sighed. "Oh, right. No, we have the classified proposed plan for stand-down, and it's still locked up in committee." 'Charlie' shrugged. "You know how it goes. The Senators whose states would be affected by the job losses are fighting it tooth and nail, claiming national security, etc. etc."

'Ace' nodded. "It's really all about planetary security, if those idiots only understood." She watched 'Charlie' shrug. "It isn't?"

"Black Lung wasn't so sure, towards the end, anyway. He would never say anything, but I sort of felt he wasn't too pleased with how the Consortium in Manhattan was running things."

She attempted to shift her shoulder, but failed. "Do you have any evidence?"

He nodded.

"I'd like to see that, and soon."

"Okay." He leaned forward, placing a quick kiss on her fingers as they heard the voices of the other two down the hall. 'Ace' and 'Charlie' released their grips before Lindhauer and McConnell entered.

As soon as they had entered, 'Ace' addressed the two men. "'Charlie' told me about Mulder and Scully."

Lindhauer nodded. "We think we've worked something out."

Frowning as he pushed a turtle aside, McConnell sat down on the edge of her mattress. "Yes. I checked the records of membership for the Norfolk chapter of "Sons of White America" and I found a very interesting name there: Scully. Charles O'Shea Scully is apparently a member."

The brunette programmer grunted, but 'Charlie' gasped, then shot a question back. "He had the document and passed it to his sister before we could break into his house and retrieve it! Would he help us, do you think?"

'Ace' chuckled at the irony of the possibility. "I doubt it. Most military types only talk big, but won't act on their fears." She cocked her head.

McConnell held up his hand. "He's also registered his son, John, for tomorrow's meeting, so I think I know how we will be able to stop the FBI and retrieve the report, all in one shot."

The four put their heads together, Lindhauer enjoying how much it felt like it was when they were still subordinates, complaining about their bosses again.

-o-0-o-

Dark Apartment  
Fairfax, Virginia  
Saturday, 2:37 pm

As he ascended the short flight of stairs, Luther grumbled to himself about having to break into yet another apartment to retrieve yet another stolen file. He only hoped the occupant would be away, since he had too much respect for his former colleague to enjoy shooting him, if he had too. _I'll knock first._ He also had to admire his old superior, who had navigated a straight course through all the convolutions and reversals.

Waiting for three minutes, he began working the lock. _Good. He's out, this should be easy. I'll just swap the folder and go._ Once inside, he checked the rooms and closets in the one-bedroom suite, before settling down to his task. With gloved hands, he switched the papers in the folder on the coffee table with the ones in his jacket, then left as quietly as he had come.

After the latch clicked behind his uninvited visitor, X slid the inner cabinet in the side of his coat closet open, pushing his way through the wool wraps to the bi-fold doors that granted access to his living room proper. _There was something to be said for having your own condo, where you could redecorate at your leisure._ The folder on the table had been shifted slightly. He flipped it open before he sprawled on the sofa to read.

Frowning at the subtle changes in the text and numbers, X stared up at the cobwebs hanging from his ceiling. _Luther's not clever enough to figure out to do these things on his own. He's always worked for … _The lean, athletic African-American pushed himself upright. _Yes. Perhaps the Gang was onto something when they broke into *his* apartment. Let me check._

With a practiced twist, he reached through the coats, slid the side door open, then lifted out a red striped report, straightening the stack he had bumped. _And, to think they've worked so hard to get a single copy back, when I've had three here all along._ Checking at several separate points in the text, he nodded. _I think I understand now. That old devil may have fooled us all, again._

-o-0-o-

Piedmont Motor Inn  
Wakefield, Virginia  
Saturday, 3:47 pm

Dana Scully stretched and opened her eyes. She had been drowsing in a swinging hammock on a hot, sticky, *wonderful* summer afternoon, waking to read a few lines in one of the "Jungle Books", or just to watch the birds twitting in the trees. But now she was hungry, it was approaching evening, so time to go in for dinner.

"Hey." Her partner, his face deeply lined compared to what it had been earlier, was brushing her hair out of her eyes.

She checked around the room. Even though Mulder had closed the drapes, the late afternoon sun filtered in through tears and broken seams. She looked back up at the man she was closer to than any other person in her life, grateful for his presence while she stumbled through her terrors. _He didn't rest at all._ He was reclining on top of the covers, nestled against her, one arm curled around her body, just as hers was draped over his waist. "How long?"

He rolled onto his side to face her, letting her slide back on the pillows as he propped his head up on one hand. "About sixteen hours." He looked down at the door. "So far, no MIB's, or CIA commandos." He pushed himself upright. "You thirsty?"

She nodded.

He turned away from her. After she heard a snap and a hiss, he swiveled, holding a bottle of mineral water in one hand, a filled clear plastic cup in the other.

Scully sat up to take the cup, draining it slowly. The liquid revived her as she drank, so she crossed her legs under her hips. "Whatever *he* did must have bought us the time we needed."

Nodding, the dark-haired man placed the cup and bottle on the table, turned, then rested one hand on her covered knee. "How much do you remember?"

"About the warehouse, or my abduction?"

He shrugged, then, as she shrank back under the blankets, leaned close to her.

Scully paled. "All of it."

His face exuded his sympathy and horror, then, offering her the only comfort he could think to give, held his arms out to her.

She settled against him. _One last time, Dana, then you have to be Agent Scully again._ As he enveloped her tightly, she wrapped her arms around his back, then dropped her head on his breastbone.

Mulder spoke quietly to his partner. "I'm sorry. You never deserved to have to endure any of what you did."

Still leaning against his chest, she raised her head until it bumped his chin. "Don't blame yourself, at least the nightmares will stop, right, Dr. Freud?"

Smiling, he rested his cheek on her crown of auburn hair. _She's back to stay, G-man. You can stop worrying now._ "Yeah, and I know a little more about what happened to Sam." They separated, Mulder shifting to drop his heels to the floor.

She turned down the covers and slid over beside him, crossing her stockinged feet in front of her. "How far did we travel along 460?"

He glanced over at her expression of quiet confusion. "Wakefield, Virginia. The map showed Portsmouth as another collection point, and..." He glanced at the carpet, not knowing how to break this news to a woman who would never have children. _Your fault, too, Mulder._ "The guys have been patching messages from your family through to me. You have a new nephew, Charles William Scully."

She stood, twisting as she headed for the bathroom. "Is Val all right?"

He watched her from his perch on the bed. "Yup. Your Mom and her Mom are there, so the Doctor doesn't have to go rushing to the rescue again." Crossing the narrow aisle to the recessed door, Mulder waited until he heard her close the valve in the sink, then pressed his hand flat against the hollow-cored wood. "I have your memories on tape, Scully, so sometime later, when you feel up to it..."

She slid the barrier back to gaze up at him. "Sure. But right now?"

He stepped in as she exited, placing that same hand on her back so they could pass each other without collision. "Right now, we both shower, and you eat some solid food for the first time in three days, partner."

Scully waited for him to emerge, then took the chair as she pulled clean clothes from her bag. When she sensed him hovering over her, she looked up as she grasped his wrist. "Thanks for taking care of me."

Resting his hand on her shoulder, he smiled briefly.

"I'm sorry I almost got us caught, Mulder."

He sat on the bed across from her. "Nothing for you to be sorry for. Your body reacted to the memories of the surgery and experiments as if they were really happening again. I know post- traumatic stress syndrome when I see it, Scully. I'm just glad you didn't slip back into a coma." He pointed at the bathroom. "You first. I'll call and have something delivered. We'll pack, eat, and split afterwards." He checked the parking lot through the drapes. "I think we're all right still, the cars outside are different."

Nodding, she crossed the narrow aisle, sealing herself off as he reached for the phone on the wall. She poked her head back out to remind him of her dietary preferences. "Light on the - "

He smirked. "Cheese, I know. Extra swimmers though, right?"

Scully growled and retreated, since he had ribbed her with her least favorite of ingredients.

Chuckling, Mulder heard water begin to beat on the floor of the shower stall.

-o-0-o-

Scully Home  
Norfolk, Virginia  
Saturday, 5:32 pm

Margaret released the lever on the pump sprayer so the water stopped running in rivulets down the crockery, forming into strings of beads instead. _There, the lunch dishes can soak for a while._ She heard her son's cast thumping towards the top of the stairs.

"Mom?"

She hurried out to look up at him. "Yes, Charlie?"

"Where's John?"

She crossed her arms. "He's in here playing. You're not serious about taking him to that meeting with you?"

He worked his way carefully down the flight, speaking again after he stepped down onto the landing. "Mom, Val and little Charlie won't be home until Monday, and Alice is at the hospital with Val until her condition stabilizes. He's bored around here, and this may be the last quality time I spend with him for a while."

Realizing the futility of the argument, Margaret closed her eyes. An image of her grandson struggling to escape a rough pair of hands appeared in her mind, as bright and harsh as a photographer's flash. She jumped back. "I'm coming with you."

Since she used her no-nonsense, 'sass me back and you'll lose your TV privileges for a month' tone, the son acquiesced, before turning to call the toddler to them.

-o-0-o-

Piedmont Motor Inn  
Saturday, 5:53 pm

When she heard a voice outside, Scully checked the figure on the sidewalk through a rend in the curtain. It was a delivery man from the local pizza parlor, who was waiting, two red and white boxes and a stack of paper plates balanced in his hands. She knew then that her partner had ordered as he usually did, two mediums, one with everything, one veggie, light on the cheese. She scanned the surrounding parking lot, then let the gap fall closed. Her partner, his weapon cocked but held behind his back, jerked his head at the door.

Opening it, Scully paid the man quickly, with a generous tip, before she closed and locked it. Holstering his weapon, he set it, in the leather case, on the raised shelf. Flipping the box top, Mulder grinned at the steaming mound of sausage and pepperoni piled on the dough. As the smell hit Scully's nostrils, she found she was ravenously hungry, so she pulled two pieces from the veggie pizza to her paper plate. Frowning at her partner when he grabbed for a black olive dangling from one side of the slice she was holding aloft, she handed him half the stack of plain white paper napkins.

-o-0-o-

Bojangles drive-through  
Norfolk, Virginia  
Saturday, 6:07 pm

Margaret passed the stained bag over the seat to her son and grandson. Little John had been hungry, so they stopped for fried chicken and a biscuit.

"Your drinks, Ma'am." The blond, pole-thin teenager with faint fuzz on his chin, leaned forward, holding out the cardboard tray with a large and a child-sized cup stuck through the holes.

When he saw his Mother shudder, Charlie leaned forward, still holding the bag high while his whining son grabbed for it. "Mom? Are you all right?"

She shook her head. A picture of those same rough hands, reaching out for her, had struck her with an almost physical impact. "I'm fine, Charlie." She forced a smile as she guided the car forward to the intersection and checked the traffic.

-o-0-o-

Piedmont Motor Inn  
Saturday, 6:42 pm

Scully eyed the last piece of Mulder's pizza.

Her partner was sprawled happily on the bed, rubbing his stomach. "Dunno, Scully, you're missing some *really* good stuff." He lifted his head to focus on her. "You want that, Doctor Ornish?"

She frowned. "No. I was thinking about how the women there were all so much meat for them to cut up."

Now he pulled himself erect. "Why was it mostly women they were after, Scully?"

The irony of her answer brought a wry smile to her lips. "In a way, you were partly right about the genetic sampling."

Puzzled, he leaned forward. "Oh?"

"Yes. Much of what I saw there was cell collection and testing. In a woman, you have a more than complete set of human chromosomes, since the Y is a truncated X. The size differences between the two are why so many recessive-gene traits, like color-blindness or hemophilia are sex-linked."

He cocked his head, thinking. "I always wondered about that. So men only have one copy of certain genes, and if that one's recessive, then we always develop the disease or the deficiency." He looked to her for confirmation.

She smiled. "To someone with no medical knowledge, the procedures will seem other worldly, but, it's all human experience, as far as I can remember."

Mulder crossed his arms, attempting to piece together the accounts she gave him earlier. "But, you said in the warehouse they kept you there through three full moons. Why would that matter, if all they wanted were the chromosomes?"

She tucked her drying hair behind her ear. "The medical knowledge the doctors around me displayed was not all that far beyond most of the advanced experimental procedures I've read about in the journals."

His eyes narrowed. _Your point?_

She lifted her chin, responding to his thought as if it had been spoken. "They need ova for vis-vitro development, Mulder. No one has solved the problem of mitosis without reproductive cells, so they use the live ova, with the extra commands for rapid replication, and they replace the genes within for testing."

He stared down at his boots. "That mitosis thing is one hurdle that keeps 'Jurassic Park' just a book, given our present technology."

"Right, rapid cell division doesn't happen with normal DNA. I was never sure why my cycles were so irregular after my coma, and why my ovaries stopped functioning so soon after the surgery, but, I think, in addition to the mature eggs, they took most of the immature ova as well." She shrugged. "They may have developed a way to bring them to maturity through hormone injections. If they could already grow fetuses outside the body, it wouldn't be too difficult."

Her partner stood, then touched her shoulder. "But the man in Klemper's Greenhouse talked about hybrids."

Scully rose as well, chewing her lip. "I should have thought of this then, Mulder. What if the hybrids were between species, but not between extraterrestrials and Homo Sapiens, just between closely related primates?"

His eyes cleared. "Chimpanzees and humans."

She nodded. "The intelligence of a person, in a body with the equivalent strength of an adult chimp or gorilla, although it would probably be sterile, would make the perfect soldier for a high-tech war." She smiled at his disbelieving look. "It's not as much Science Fiction as you might expect, Mulder. Think of the cross between lions and tigers called a tiglion or liger, depending."

He stared. "What?"

"No joke. The average human polypeptide is more than 99% identical with its counterpart in chimps. The mean genetic distance between Homo Sapiens Sapiens and the Genus Pan is less than that between the horse and the donkey, and we know they can be cross-bred. Since the mid-seventies, several different geneticists have speculated that it might be possible, but always considered the experiment unethical to perform."

He shook his head. "Yeah, one thing the Shadows have never had too much of is scruples." He stepped back, then slid the partition between them as she checked the room for any remaining possessions. "Scully?"

She turned to see his dark head protruding through the slit in the doorway. "Hum?"

"Sterile would mean they needed to keep creating new ones all the time, right?"

She nodded. "It would explain all those up-to-date records in the old Strughold Mine, too. As our medical knowledge improved, they could be more precise about whom they kidnapped for their tests and experiments."

He stepped back, sliding the door shut.

-o-0-o-

Virginia Beach Pavilion & Convention Center  
Virginia Beach, Virginia  
Saturday, 7:03 pm

Margaret guided the Volvo into a parking space between two jacked- up pick-ups, both with chromed roll-bars. Twin Confederate flags were pasted in the bottom corners of the back windshield, flanking a loaded gunrack, and the bumper was plastered with slogans: "America, love it or leave it," "Every Mother is a Working Mother," "God said it, I believe it, and that settles it." Margaret shook her head. While she agreed with many of the sentiments behind the jingoisms, seeing them here cast them all in a far more sinister light. Her anxiety increased the closer they came to the entrance.

Charlie finally stopped. "Mom? Will you please tell me what's bothering you?"

She stood stock-still. "I just don't feel we should be here, Charles. There is something wrong about all this, I know it."

He fiddled with the rubber hand pad on his left crutch. "Oh, Mom, don't start the woo-woo stuff again. At least Dana never fell for it, even though Mel did. We'll be fine. John?"

The toddler was crouching, seriously concentrating on something. "Daddy? I think I need to go." The simple request broke the tension.

Margaret scooped him into her arms. "It's all right, Charles, I'll see to this; you go on in." As she carried him around to the restrooms, she saw a group of men outside, who looked too well- dressed to blend into the rest of the crowd in jeans, cowboy hats, and flannel shirts. _Dana, what do I do now? Are you all right, you and Fox? _Then she spotted the women's room, so she was Gamma again. "Look, John, we're here."

But the little boy had overheard his father talking. "I'm big enough, Gamma, I want to use Daddy's bafroom, not yours!"

Margaret blanched. _Not now._

The child had firmly set his jaw.

She recognized one Scully trait that John inherited from his Gamma and Daddy. "Okay, just this once." She carried him to the other side of the partition, where they waited until another Father, all flaxen curls and pale blue eyes, approached with his own son, who looked almost like his miniature. "Excuse me, but would you...?"

He nodded, bent down, then held out his hand to John. "Hey there, my man, I'm Roger, and this is Alex."

Awed, the little boy shook it.

Margaret leaned over. "Remember what Mommy taught you, John-John."

The toddler pumped the giant palm with all his might. "Hi! I'm John Scully."

Roger laughed. "He has a future in politics, that's for sure, Mrs. Scully?" He watched her nod. "Well, John, shall we take care of some guy stuff?"

Smiling, she held the men's room door while Roger shepherded the two boys inside. _There, Margaret, that wasn't so bad, was it?_

-o-0-o-

After walking with Roger and Alex to the children's area, the younger man offered Margaret his arm, then they sought out her son. As the two pushed though the crowd, they traded facts about themselves.

She nodded with sympathy as he recounted his wife's recent death from ovarian cancer. _Don't start thinking that he needs someone like Dana, your last attempt was a gigantic disaster. _

"Mom! Roger!" Charlie waved them over, pointed to four empty seats beside him.

The two men shook hands. "Chuck! I didn't know this was your Mother."

She smiled at his surprise. "There aren't *that* many Scullys, are there?"

Roger shrugged. "I should have seen the family resemblance right off, since Chuck and I have talked so many times before at the local Sons Chapter."

As the lights came down, the crowd quieted, then the announcer opened the rally by calling a local minister forward to give an Invocation.

After the prayer was finished, Margaret studied the leaders and guests on the stage. One, with red curls and glasses, seemed faintly familiar, but she focused on the announcer again, who was explaining the remainder of the program. She was relieved to hear that they would be finished by 10:14 pm so could make an early night of it.

-o-0-o-

Along US Highway 460  
Saturday, 8:17 pm

Dana Scully glanced over at her partner as he inhaled deeply, forcing himself awake. Since he had been staggering from his forced insomnia as they had packed and left, she had ordered her partner to use the time to nap, hoping his full stomach would keep him out for a few hours.

But, she could tell it was to no avail. "Hey, you shouldn't be awake this soon, Mulder. You could barely keep your eyes open in those old dock-side warehouses we thought had been used by the Consortium in Portsmouth." She flashed him a tiny smile of reassurance.

He blinked as he focused out his window. "Where are we now?"

She glanced down at the odometer. "Headed west on 460."

After checking his watch, he stared over at her. "Already? Well, that proves I should never argue with a Navy kid. This *was* almost as fast as high-tailing it out of town on I-64."

Scully tucked her chin. "It isn't only that, Mulder. We agreed as to what we expect an unaltered site should look like, but if we take the interstate, we'll be miles away from them so we can't stop and check." She pushed her hair behind her ear. "It won't be *that* much later before we reach San Diego and begin searching for Sam."

He had been deep in thought for the time she had slept, question after question peppering his sleep-deprived mind. Now, he checked her readiness to converse with a quick roll of his eyes. "Scully?"

She nodded as she turned her attention back to the white strips in the headlights. "Yes, Mulder?"

"Sam was only a child when she was taken. How could they..."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Sample her for ova for the experiments?" She shrugged. "Your Mother said she would just lose her memory, right?" She checked for his assent. "As horrible as it is to contemplate, I think - "

"You think she was retested once she reached puberty?"

"Probably. Like me, she may not even have been aware it was happening the second time around."

"Oh." He fell silent, watching the lighted houses pass to their rear, turning only when his partner began speaking.

"She's strong, Mulder, she's your sister and Caroline's daughter. She'll be all right when you find her."

He punched the dashboard, then shoved the reddening hand under his arm. "I wasn't there for her, Scully. She was all alone when they did the things to her they did to you." He bit his lip. _So were you._

She glanced at the torn skin on his knuckles, then shook her head. _Don't start punishing yourself now, partner._ "Hey, I had the strength of your beliefs, remember? She must know you loved her, somewhere inside her." She signaled, then passed a dusty blue pick-up truck, knowing what she had said sounded terribly silly, but it unfurrowed her partner's forehead.

"Scully?"

His voice was so low and tenuous she was afraid he had hurt himself. "Hum? You okay, Mulder?"

He pursed his lips. "I'm still having trouble squaring all your memories against what happened with that clone of my sister."

She pulled off into the parking lot of a now-closed bank, then turned off her cell phone. _We need to talk about this face-to- face. I owe him that, after he's taken care of me as carefully and as gently as he has._

He touched her arm. "Are you all right, Scully? Should I drive?"

As she shifted to face him, she shook her head. "I just wanted to talk to you with all my attention, Mulder. I'm convinced now that what's happened to us over the past five years falls into a completely different category from the standard abduction stories. We've seen too much that can't be explained as normal hallucinations, that does not fit with these nebulous, hazy products of an overcharged imagination."

He cocked his head. "Sculleeee, don't tell me, that after all we've seen, you think it was only human activity that was involved?"

She gripped the leather seat with both hands, so he waited for the explosion.

But, she continued in a hushed voice, speaking as if she were the only one in the car. "Oh, Mulder, is that it? Does it hurt less that way? The monsters are all out there." She waved at the black sky. "Not in here." She touched her chest, then took in his befuddled expression. "I'm sorry, I've never thought of your theories quite like that before."

"I don't understand what you're saying, Scully."

But her mind was racing, and she let out a small laugh. "Of course, I should have seen this before." She started laughing, louder and longer. "Of course, that's it!"

He grasped her elbow. "Scully! Are you all right?" She was beaming, the sight bringing a twitch to his lips as well. "What, can you tell me?"

Excited, she leaned as close to him as she, in the deep bucket seats, could. "We can't solve a problem if we look in the wrong place for the answers."

Finally comprehending, he leaned back. "The experiments on you had nothing to do with that woman who claimed to be my sister; the cloning techniques were too advanced."

She nodded. "If that was a clone and if it was of your sister."

He shifted in the seat, staring at her in a lengthening silence before he spoke. "What?"

Scully glanced at him. "I hope when we find her that she doesn't look anything like the woman who was in Massachusetts, that her visit was all part of some scheme to throw you off the trail. I so wish my memories had held all the answers for us both, Mulder, but I don't think they do. What they really are, since I'm not blessed with an eidetic memory like you, are my perfectly fallible recollections, filtered through a mind that imposes reason and order on everything it sees."

He shifted around to face her. "Do you think your memories were tampered with in ways we haven't determined yet?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, Mulder. We've learned much more than I ever thought we would, and I'll try to make sense of everything I've said for you, but, I really can't understand, how if the doctors were crossing humans and chimpanzees, they would end up producing so many duplicates. Or, how or even whether ova from your sister were given away to produce that woman who visited you. Or, why the copies would decompose so rapidly after death."

He crossed his arms. "Could it just be that aliens are involved, even though you won't admit it?"

She dropped her head in her hands. "Of course it could, Mulder, I'm a scientist, too, and it would be wrong of me to ignore that possibility."

He waited, having had this discussion with his partner many times before. He expected a long lecture on not assigning god-like powers to the aliens, to which he would respond that perhaps their science was so far beyond ours it only looked like magic. That usually earned him a first-class Look, followed by a flood of words he couldn't begin to comprehend, no matter how many times he reread Kip Thorne or James Gleick.

Her next sentence, spoken in the same soft voice, surprised him. "I've already admitted it."

He thought back to that conversation they shared as they bandaged each other for the last time. "You did, and I shouldn't push you on it."

She turned her face towards him. "You've been so certain that Sam and I were in the same places, suffering the same tortures. I want to think she was too, Mulder, because then we would have a trail, something tangible we can follow to her. Otherwise..."

He stared out the window, finishing the sentence in a hollow, immensely tired voice. "If she was whisked away in a beam of light that was more than an implanted memory, we don't have a clue or a prayer of bringing her back." He felt her rubbing his shoulder, so he looked down at her white hand, then up at her sorrowing face.

She wanted to comfort him, but could only manage an apology. "Please, don't think I wanted her to suffer. If anything, I hope she escaped what the MUFON women and I went through, Mulder, that she was just sent on to a new life." She tightened her grip, but he sat up suddenly, then patted her hand, so she released him.

"Actually, Scully, you may be on to something. The woman your Father showed me didn't look like the one who came to my Father, she looked like-" He frowned. "-well, more like a cross between my Mother and myself." He swallowed as the full horror in the revelations dawned on him. "But that would mean my Father, that he knew, willfully lied to both Mom and me, at least until the end, when he told my Mother a part of the truth." He stared at her, chewing his lip.

Scully nodded. "Mulder, he may have had no choice in the matter, you don't know. But, the willful, well, after what Caroline told me, I'd believe that."

The strain of the past few days as well as the absolute absence of meaningful rest tore away any self-control the sensitive man who was her partner may have had. His anger flared. "You were so close to your Father, how can you know..." Enraged, he flung the door open to stomp into the darkness.

"Mulder, I didn't mean..." She hurried after him, calling out to him. When she found him, leaning against a flood-killed oak, weeping jaggedly, Scully stood in front of her partner, trying to soothe any hurt she may have inadvertently caused. "Please, that sounded harsher than I meant it to. I'm sure your Father *did* love you, as best he could." She could not bring herself to relate to him all Caroline had told her, knowing now his Mother had been correct to pass on to him as little as she had. _The last thing he needs to know is that his parents did *not* divorce because of him._

He had covered himself with his jacket while he tried to sleep, so had left the car in only his black canvas shirt. Mulder shook his head fiercely, the words escaping through chattering teeth. "I tried to please him, really I did, with all the grades and awards, but he never even noticed me half the time, and the other half, well..."

She touched his arm, connecting in the only manner that would reach him at this moment.

Mulder stared down at her. "Your Father truly loved you, Scully, honestly was proud of you, genuinely wanted to be with you. But, mine..." A fresh pair of tears rolled down either side his nose. "I've spoken with Max more openly than William Mulder ever wanted to converse with me."

She reached up to cover one cheek with her hand, pulling the sticky wetness aside with her thumb, gratified when he let it rest there, rather than stepping away or pushing it off. _Be patient, Dana, he has years of hurt to work through, and it took a lot out of him to be strong for you these past few days._ I'm so glad his Mother found someone he feels he can turn to. "I'm sorry, I spoke without thinking, Mulder. You're right, I don't know. Come back into the car and tell me what it was like, if you feel you can."

He nodded.

She dropped her hand to tug on his arm, until he followed her, childlike in his obedience, into the warmth of their vehicle. Once they were buckled in, she swiveled in the driver's seat. _Well, maybe this will make the difference._ "I've never told you the rest of what I think your Father said to me on the Solstice, did I?"

He shook his head.

"Well, he said we'll find Sam together, just as you think my Father said as well."

"Oh."

She glanced over at him again. _I thought that would help._ "Mulder?"

He was ruminating. When he spoke, it seemed to her he was thinking through his speech, not initiating a conversation. "If the Bounty Hunter said she was still alive, both our Fathers said we'll find her, and the woman I saw doesn't look like the clone, then maybe there is hope."

She lifted an eyebrow, two thoughts appearing simultaneously. _Oh, Mulder, how do you know any of that is real!_ and _Good, at least evidence you believe will keep us from having to chase lights all night long._

He shook his head, sending her a tiny, apologetic smile.

Scully wagged her fingers. "Maybe we both wanted it to be true, and convinced ourselves of the fact through our mental experiences that night." She shrugged. "You tell me, you're the psychologist."

He sighed. "It's possible, Scully." He dropped his head against the headrest. "Or is it just enough that you want to help me find her? Sometimes I lose hope of seeing her again, but then a new piece of the puzzle turns up, like that document, or like you recovering your memories. Then I think she's not so far away, so I can keep looking." He rubbed his face with one hand.

She studied the dark circles under his eyes, listened to the catch in his voice with her doctor's senses. But it was as his friend that she spoke, hoping to persuade him to rest before he burned out worrying about his sister. "I hope we learn something about Sam on this trip, Mulder; we've never been this close before."

Lifting the black leather jacket from the floor, Mulder slipped back into it. "I know. We need to take advantage of this opportunity, Scully."

She chewed her lip as she squinted at the motel sign across the street. "They have an all-night diner. We could grab something more substantial than pizza. Do you want to check in for some real sleep? You haven't had more than an hour or two at a time since Wednesday night."

He shifted to face her, squaring his shoulders, forcing a faint grin. _I'll be all right, Scully._ "Nah, just some coffee will do me fine. We should try to put another fifty miles behind us before we stop tonight." He paused, searching for words to reassure her, but those two quick sentences were all the eloquence he could manage.

-o-0-o-

Virginia Beach Pavilion & Convention Center  
Virginia Beach, Virginia  
Saturday, 9:21 pm

Margaret was impressed by the polish of the speakers, but there were words and phrases she was extremely uncomfortable hearing, over and over.

Little things, like: "A Christian Nation" _Yes, well, but there are other religions here too._ Since coming to know Caroline Lowenberg, she had been made forcefully aware of the power of the majority to slowly silence differences in personality. She was bothered that Caroline's son had turned his back so firmly against the religion and culture of his ancestors. _We all have roots, Fox, even you._

Or: "English only" _We need to be able to communicate with other peoples in their own languages, or we'll limit ourselves in the worlds of commerce, literature, and technology._

Or: "Reading, writing, and 'Rithmetic are what our kids need to learn today." _Yes, *but*. How will they be prepared to compete in a global economy?_ She shifted in her seat, wondering how John was doing. She had left him babbling and tossing a ball with Alex, so found herself hoping her premonitions were groundless.

Then the red-haired speaker rose and took the microphone. As he began his presentation, Margaret's jaw dropped. _That's the voice I heard outside the wall; it can't be!_ When he took his glasses off, she felt herself gripping the armrests. _It is him! That's the man who tried to kill Dana and Fox down in Miami!_ Heedless of the eyes fastened on her, she pushed her way into the aisle and started running for her grandson, sending up two quick prayers, one to the Blessed Mother, and the other to St. Brigid for his safety.

Concerned, Charlie watched her, then hoisted himself to his feet.

After a moment's thought, Roger declined to join them.

-o-0-o-

_There are no happy noises coming from that room now._ Margaret pushed through the double doors. The well-dressed men she had seen earlier lined the walls, the children huddled in the center with the young women who were taking care of them.

A slender man, barely into his twenties, grabbed her. "Who are you?"

Margaret drew herself up very straight. "That's not important. What do you want with these little boys?"

"Where is the Scully child? Where is John Scully?"

She clamped her lips together. _This is horrible. Don't say anything, John-John._ "I don't know anyone by that name. What do you want with these children?" She stared at the hand on her sleeve as it tightened around it.

"What is your name?"

At that moment, Charles clomped through the door, giving Margaret the opportunity to wrench her arm free.

He frowned at the scene. "Mom? What's going on here?"

One of the other men stepped forward, tall and blond, almost Scandinavian in complexion. Set deep in his face were a pair of liquid blue eyes, the color not that of a clear lake in high summer, but of a glacier, cold enough with hatred to freeze Margaret in place. He had the air of a leader, so the other man moved her out of his way.

The tall man confronted Charlie. "Are you Charles O'Shea Scully?"

Before Margaret could catch his eye, he replied in the affirmative.

Lindhauer pointed his finger at the quiet huddle of boys. "Which of these is John Scully?"

Charlie swallowed. "He's not here. We left him home with his other grandmother."

Margaret nodded. _Good, Charlie._

Lindhauer walked over to Alex to lift him off the carpet, shaking him until the block he was holding fell from his tiny hand. "Don't lie. Is this your son?"

When Charlie stammered a no the boy was dropped carelessly, but as Lindhauer reached for the next child, the officer's nerves failed. "What do you want from me?"

Lindhauer stepped away from the children, descending on him like a falcon. "We want your sister to return the document, and delete the computer copies we know she has had made."

Margaret clenched her fists. "Charlie, what is this all about?"

His jaw worked. "Mom, do you have Dana's cell phone number?"

At her nod, Lindhauer produced his own, then she punched the buttons as he supported it. After several rings, he snarled at her. "There's no answer." He pushed the unit in her face. "Try again."

From memory, she tapped out Fox Mulder's number, praying that one of them was still awake to respond.

-o-0-o-

Along US Highway 460  
Saturday, 9:48 pm

Checking his sleeping partner, Mulder lifted his cell phone out of his jacket to disable the ringer so as not to wake her. _Take good care of her, indeed I will. She's set me straight, grounding me to what could be proven, even if the evidence was all from things she wouldn't accept._ He glanced at the briefcase by her leg with the report in it. _She's focused me again, or else I would have given up in despair._

He had gently persuaded her to forego her coffee for a quick snooze. She needed to rest, despite her protests, and, normally, a catnap or two would be good enough for him. Her immediate concern for him when he had run from the car both heartened him as to the state of their partnership, and chastened him for his own, too numerous, shortcomings. She had learned when he needed her to come after him, to pull him back to reality, but he couldn't afford to indulge himself in too many bouts of self-pity. It was, as the man with the Morleys reminded him so forcefully, too dangerous.

He shifted in the seat to check the rear-view mirror. There was one car, way back behind them, but it turned off, so they were still clear of the Shadows. The twists of fate astonished him, and he would have to speak to his Mother as soon as possible. _What did he mean, how she became a citizen? Were there more secrets buried in my past?_ The cell phone vibrated against his chest, so he lifted it to his ear.

"Mulder." He listened.

Despite the whisper, Scully stirred to look over at him as he grew deadly serious.

Sensing his partner was awake, Mulder let himself growl. "How do I know this is real? Why would you ...? How do you...? Where are you? We'll be there in three hours, no more." He terminated the call then pulled off into the nearest driveway. "Scully?"

She straightened, her coat crumpling into her lap. "What? What's wrong?"

As he pushed the car door open, he was jerking his head towards the road.

She flew out herself, then hurried down the blacktop to stand by him under a tall street lamp, where they both clasped their jackets tightly around themselves. _Whatever it is, he doesn't want other ears to hear it._

"Scully, your nephew has been taken hostage, along with twenty other two-year-olds."

"Mulder! Who was that?"

He leaned close to her. "One of the new Shadow leaders, as far as I could tell. For the report, they'll exchange your Mom, brother, and the kids, as long as the Gunmen purge all digital copies, but we have ten hours to make up our minds." Lifting his cell phone out of his jacket, he pressed the third speed dial button, but Scully terminated the call. He stared at her. "We knew this was coming."

"You're okay with this, Mulder? I would understand if you wanted to keep going." She inhaled deeply. "Really, I would."

His shoulders drooped. "We don't have much choice, do we? It's wrong for your family to be ensnared as mine was, and as we are; besides, we've lost so much, you and I."

She chewed her lip.

"What?"

Scully eyed her partner seriously. _Maybe... _"I think I see a way out of this." She leaned against him, pulling down on his shoulder. "Did they ask for the version we have on film?"

Shaking his head, his eyes widened with comprehension at the import of her question, whispered in his ear. He draped one arm over her shoulders and breathed into her hair. "I don't think they know about that, Scully, but how can we use it?"

"Your memory, Mulder, have you ever tried to reproduce something exactly from an image in your mind?"

Both eyebrows shot up on his forehead. "You mean like that report? I could try. Are you suggesting I memorize the unsanitized version, compare it against the photos you and Frohike took, and fill in the deletions after the exchange?"

She nodded. "Are you awake enough to do that?"

Reveling in her optimism, he grinned and stepped back. "I am now. I may not retain all the details exactly, but it *will* be better than nothing. There are stray ink marks left on the sanitized pages, so I'll concentrate on those recovered parts. You wanna drive back to Norfolk, Cato?"

She crinkled her nose at him as they returned to the expensive green rental.

-o-0-o-

Virginia Beach Pavilion & Convention Center  
Virginia Beach  
Sunday, February 9, 1997  
12:27 am

There were only three sleek black vehicles in the parking lot next to the Volvo station wagon when the BMW pulled in alongside them all. After the conversation with Mulder, the men had escorted the Scullys outside, leaving the remaining children all too frightened to say much to their parents when they came to take them home. Margaret wondered if the blond leader knew how many nightmares he was responsible for inflicting on those helpless boys, but she suspected he didn't think much about such things. _Otherwise, he would realize what a monster he had become._

She watched through the rear windshield of one of the sedans as Dana stepped out of the driver's side, then Fox unfolded himself from the other, carrying a small brown briefcase. The tall leader, accompanied by the red-haired speaker, approached their car.

Both agents stiffened when they saw the ruddy curls and glasses. Her daughter's partner moved over so he faced McConnell, not Dana, offering her what protection he could. While she could hear no words, Margaret could read, by the almost imperceptible clues in his body language, that Fox was ready to assault the shorter of their adversaries, should he approach his partner too closely. The red-haired man seemed to be aware of it too, so stared down at the briefcase the FBI agent had handed him.

Finally, a simple gesture from the leader towards the cars, doors opened, Margaret offered her son a hand up, as little John, overwhelmed by the evening's events, raced out. Scully knelt to pick up the child, his wide eyes fastened on the retreating backs of the men who had held them captive, as the two strolled casually away from the terror they had caused.

Scully faced the older woman. "Mom." While the toddler clung to the Agent's neck, the two women embraced.

Margaret checked her daughter over closely for the first time in more than a week. "Dana, you look terrible." Barely hearing the cars pull out, they laughed, more with relief than amusement. "I mean, it's wonderful to see you, but have you slept at all?"

Scully shook her head. "I'm fine, Mom, it's Mulder who hasn't."

The older woman looked up. The lines and grey pallor choked off her words of sympathy, so she hugged him with all her strength, feeling him curl over her.

He rested his head on hers. "I'm okay, Mrs. Scully." He stepped away to rub her arms. "We'll both be all right, as long as you are all safe."

As Scully passed John to Margaret, Charles finally joined them, then, feeling awkward, the siblings exchanged handshakes.

Mulder felt for his partner.

Scully was backing away from her brother toward him, shrugging off the other man's nearly inaudible thanks. "As long as you are all okay, Charlie, it's fine. I'm sorry you had to go through all this."

Hidden from the view of the rest, Mulder pressed his hand into her back, so she reached behind her to grasp briefly it in gratitude.

Charles Scully pointed one crutch at the Volvo. "We'll meet you at my house, all right?"

Margaret issued a quick, but firm command. "Don't either of you think about driving back to DC tonight, not in the shape you're in."

Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance before he raised both eyebrows. "I guess we've been told, right?"

She nodded. "See you back at the ranch, Mom, Charlie."

In three minutes, the BMW and Volvo sped away to Norfolk, leaving the parking lot completely deserted.

-o-0-o-

Unidentified Airplane over the Piedmont  
Sunday, 2:18 am

Closing the less than pristine document, Lindhauer slipped it into a bag, then sealed the container. In a few weeks, the contents would be meaningless, since the last of active operations were due to be switched over to a fleet of eighteen-wheelers, augmented by small jets, like the one they presently occupied. The planes would deliver the more sensitive merchandise from Central America.

It had been the "War on Drugs" that required they keep the old lines and routes active. But, with the Democrats back in power, a few well-placed words about civil liberties as well as the futility and expense _Heavy emphasis on expense_ of patrolling thousands of miles of coastline, would soon curtail the official surveillance.

Lindhauer glanced across the narrow flight table at McConnell, who was just finishing up a phone conversation. "So, how did recruiting go?"

McConnell smiled. "We'll have several new squadrons to call on, whenever we need them. Combining patriotism, with an offer of good employment driving semis, as many of these guys used to do, was more than sufficient enticement." He laid the cell phone on the table. "That was Luther. He's examined Black Lung's personal estate, and it's just as we thought. Not only was his investment portfolio flush with profits, he had made arrangements to travel to the Mediterranean just before he was killed."

Lindhauer nodded. "So the old men had succeeded in finally assassinating him; he wasn't plotting to fake his own death, as 'Charlie' had thought. His thing for 'Ace' has muddled his mind. Good. That only leaves us with two major problems."

McConnell glowered. "X can still be useful. Let me handle him."

Lindhauer sighed. "Very well then, one. I suggest we keep a much closer eye on Mulder and Scully in the future." He pointed to the bag. "That, was too close for comfort."

"What do we do about 'Ace' and 'Charlie'?"

Falling silent, the two men stared out their respective windows.

-o-0-o-

Apartment 5  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Monday, February 10, 1997  
8:47 pm

Margaret checked the cars in the parking lot before she turned to her daughter, who was cuddling the Pomeranian, whispering absolute nonsense to his little pricked-up ears. The elder Scully had been away from Annapolis long enough, Charles had returned to light duty, and Alice could take care of Val, John, and little Chuck until her daughter-in-law was back on her feet.

Margaret took a step towards Scully. "I hope Charlie's learned his lesson, Dana, and he stays away from those groups you warned him about." She stood over her daughter. "Honey, will there be anything more I should be aware of, or can I go home and sleep in peace?"

Before replying, Scully settled the little dog in her lap, continuing to scratch the center of his spine. "Mom, I don't know. Mulder and I have spent the day in his office, trying to predict what the Shadows will attempt next so we can develop defensive strategies. But for you, the best I can say is to keep an eye out, just as you have been since Thanksgiving. We'll bring the Gunmen around to sweep the house if needs be. And..."

Her mother nodded. "I know, Dear. Call the police if I have any suspicions."

Scully looked up at Margaret. "No, Mom, I'd like you to start carrying a cell phone with you so you can request help if you need to. Yes, call the police, but one of us afterward as well." Dana Scully held up her hand. "I'll pay for it, you need to be able to call for assistance anywhere, not just from the basement or kitchen."

Margaret sobered. _This is very serious, isn't it, Dana?_ She walked over to the sofa to sit by her daughter, placing her hand on her cheek, covering the dark circle under her eye with her thumb. "Okay. I'll take care of it at my end. You and Fox rested so little in Norfolk. Will you be all right?"

Scully buried her face in the long red fur. _She's not ready to hear what we think we've learned._ "I'm fine, Mom."

Margaret shook her head. _I know your code, Dana, you're worried half sick over something, but you don't want to discuss it with me yet._ The older woman settled back on the cushions. "How is Fox?"

The wiggling canine jumped to the floor at Scully's feet. He sauntered off to the bathroom, sniffing loudly as he checked his old home for any scent of interlopers. _Nope, just my other Mom, and that tall man who visits her all the time. _

"He's run down, Mom, but he's in that odd stage of exhaustion he reaches where he seems to be, well, happy. He brought in bagels for Cynthia and myself this morning." Her eyes bright, she lifted one corner of her mouth. "'Low-fat doughnuts', he says, just before he slathers on an inch-thick layer of garlic and scallion cream cheese."

While her nose crinkled at her daughter's copycat gestures, Margaret laughed. "At least you're both mending, Honey."

Squaring her shoulders, Dana Scully nodded. _Don't worry about us, Mom._ "It should be slow at work for a while. Nichols was supposed to start with us next Monday, but one of the drug busts he was in charge of was moved forward in Federal Court, so he'll be busy preparing and delivering his testimony for at least the next three weeks."

Margaret frowned. "This Nichols is one of your new Agents?"

Her cell phone buzzed, she answered, then listened to her caller for a few moments. "Oh, really, Mulder? When did you hear that? Did you want to show it to me?" As she raised her chin, her Mother heard amusement creep into her voice. "Oh, Mom's here right now. Bye." She terminated the call. "He's on the way over, but he says Hi, in case you hit the road before he arrives."

Margaret shook her head. "I'll always make time for him, he ought to know that by now. I love speaking with him when he calls."

Scully stared. "He calls you?"

"Mum-hum. Just yesterday, he phoned to tell me you were both home safe, and we chatted for nearly an hour."

When her daughter repeated the question in astonishment, Margaret took her hand. "I think he feels he's earned my love by helping rescue the three of us, but he shouldn't have such a low opinion of himself." She fixed her only girl in a gentle motherly stare. _And neither should you, Dana. You both assume you have to work to earn what is already yours._

As the Pomeranian clicked through the hall, then turned into the kitchen for a few slurps of water, Scully followed his flopped-over tail with her eyes.

Margaret patted her arm, still bothered by the angry red marks she saw there. "Are you sure you don't want him back?"

Her daughter sobered. "No, he's safer with you, and you're more secure because you have him."

Margaret couldn't contain the, to her, obvious comparison. "And you have Fox."

As she expected, her daughter's head snapped around, her red hair lifting away from her neck like a swirling skirt. "*Mother*! I do not *have* Mulder!"

The older woman covered her smile by turning to fluff one of the embroidered pillows. _You'll only have hopes if she doesn't protest, Margaret._ "Yes, dear."

They listened to the thud of footsteps on the carpet in the hall, stopping at her door, then Scully walked over to unlock it.

Judging by his rounded shoulders, Margaret knew the man on the other side was, just as Dana had indicated, careworn.

But, the quick little smile he favored Margaret with before his eyes settled on his partner radiated contentment. "Hey."

As Scully led him back to her sofa, Margaret caught his swift grasp of her daughter's shoulder. She watched as the long fingers trailed partway down her back before Dana stepped away, so the older woman rose to hug him.

Instead of the confused withdrawal she expected, Mulder returned her embrace warmly, then held her out at arm's length. "You'll be traveling back to Annapolis tonight, Mrs. Scully?"

"Yes, I will Fox, and I'd better start soon. Sweetie?" The little canine entered as if waiting his cue, but Scully intercepted him for one final squeeze. As she took the dog, Margaret kissed her daughter goodbye, then turned to go, passing the tall man.

His eyes were twinkling. "Hey!"

_Oh, Fox! You're such a little boy inside._ The Pomeranian under her arm, Margaret stood on tiptoe to hold his head and peck his cheek, before she waved at the pair and stepped out.

Scully looked up at her partner, surprised by his unabashed request for affection. _Usually this spells trouble, Dana._ "So, where's the article on the abductees found lying in a spiral in a wheat field in Cornwall?" When he sat, she picked up on his changed mood, so settled by his side. "What is it?"

He fingered the remote she had dropped on the coffee table. "We still need to work through your memories, and I need to write down what I've stashed in mine, before I begin to forget."

"So? We have the next two weeks, Mulder."

He shook his head. "Not here, Scully."

She raised an eyebrow. "But the Gunmen swept the office for us this morning."

He drew two plane tickets partially out of his jacket pocket to wiggle them. "Miami, partner, where we won't be disturbed. I've already cleared it with Skinner."

After a quick glance at the front door, she frowned. "If Mom finds out..."

Chuckling, he rolled his eyes. "She'll start picking out China patterns, I know." He bent forward to remove his waist-length coat. "But, up here, we could easily be pulled into another case by VC, and we need to concentrate. Down there, if you need to take a break or something, it won't be like it was in January, with our families around."

They stared at each other for a long moment. He had weighed their options, considered this the most expedient course of action, she knew, but she also understood he would respect her decision.

"I'll have to think about this, Mulder."

He nodded. _She needs to not feel pushed, by anyone. _"I'll make some herbal tea, all right?" He stepped into the kitchen, jacket and tickets in hand.

While she listened to the water running, the cabinet doors opening and closing, she powered up the television, then groaned. The local news station was showing a Winter Storm Warning for the following evening, calling for an icing event with accumulations of a tenth to a quarter of an inch, with widespread power outages predicted. He spun when she appeared in the doorway.

"When are those tickets for, Mulder?"

Smirking, he pointed to the polychrome folders on the kitchen table, next to the coat that was carelessly dangling off one side of a kitchen chair, so she crossed over to read them. "Tomorrow at eleven on Delta, Scully. I've checked with Max. He depends on the Jenkins to keep an eye out for him, but he'd rather someone was in the house periodically. That way it's kept up, and doesn't become an easy target for burglary. He's already alerted his cleaning and gardening services."

She thought about the warmth and sun, the beach and the pool. She remembered the week of frustration, slipping on ice, fighting to find parking spaces that weren't filled with piles of snow, so knew what she wanted. "I'll start packing right now, okay?"

He arched an eyebrow. "I knew I could make a believer of you, Scully."

She stopped in the doorway to call back to him. "You're all ready to go, aren't you, Mulder?"

He walked up behind her to lean over her shoulder. "My bag's in the trunk. We could always fly out tonight, oof!" He rubbed his side where her elbow had contacted it.

"Don't push it, partner. I thought we were working."

Turning her with a hand on her shoulder, he nodded. "It won't be easy, Scully. I know that. I just wanted to find a quiet, private space to reflect and recuperate."

She shifted her feet, then leaned against the door frame. "You're right, Mulder. We need more unpressured time to recover than two weeks of paperwork would give us." She sighed as she looked up at him. "Thanks for making it for us."

His eyes were deep pools of sorrow. "Thank me when we're finished, not before." As the kettle whistled, he released her with a pat on the back.

-o-0-o-

End - Passages in Memory - Recovery


	5. Epilogue

====o=====================================================o=====

_Passages in Memory_ by Mary Ruth Keller

_Epilogue_

=====o=====================================================o=====

Lowenberg Home  
Miami, Florida  
Tuesday, February 18, 1997  
11:27 am

Dana Scully floated on the warmth of the pool, concentrating on letting her tensions flow away from her through the hand that trailed off the clear inflated raft, into the water. The horrors were behind them; she had worked through her tapes, he through the report. All the evidence had been archived in secrecy, so they were using the remainder of their time for the recovery of their drained minds and weakened bodies. As she drifted, incidents from the past week replayed in her thoughts.

-o-0-o-

Mulder opened the door to his stepfather's study. "You can work in here, if you want, Scully."

She brushed past him, fascinated by the delicate bas-relief figures all around the edge of the thick slab that was the desk's top. While he waited silently by her shoulder, she smiled gently. "Your Mother said it's from the Tyrol. I saw it when she gave us the tour of the house. I've wanted to check it out, but Max was in here so much I didn't want to gawk."

Mulder shrugged. "I don't think I was ever in here before, Scully, I was spending the time with my Mom."

She sank carefully into the tall chair with red velvet seat and back cushions, then rubbed the broad armrests ending in spirals. Twisting, she admired the carved rim of the back, where hop vines appeared to grow from the sunburst at the top. With an index finger, Scully traced tiny veins inscribed in the leaves. "Both of these must be antiques. I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life."

As the devastation in his Mother's and Stepfather's lives suddenly meshed with his own, Mulder's eyes clouded. He ran his hand over the deep varnish on the writing surface. "When I spoke with him about coming down here, he mentioned this. It was one of the few pieces of furniture Max's family managed to hide before they were taken away. The chair is a replacement." He busied himself with unloading the pocket recorder to hook it into the sound card in the PC.

Rising to stand beside him, Scully reached for the mass of cables.

He waved her off. "I'm not a total klutz; Frohike *did* teach me something." They grinned at each other, so she booted up the machine, then verified that the software and disk space were adequate for her plans.

After she had activated the voice recognition programs, she circled the room, her footsteps silenced by the thick Persian carpet. The office was what one would expect for a lawyer, floor to ceiling bookshelves in dark walnut covering three of the four walls. A deep bay window behind the desk looked out over the front garden of hibiscus, grown to a tall glory that had never felt a frost, arrayed behind sentinels of delicate, fern-like cycad palms.

The ambers and tans in the book bindings were subdued compared to the indigo, azure, and silver threads in the rug outlining the shape of a phoenix, rising from scarlet, ocher, and auric flames. At the mythical bird's head, Max had positioned a settee with a pair of facing lions engraved on the back, a mate to the chair in its scrollwork, the seat as brightly upholstered. Scully settled in it, curling up on the padding while she watched her partner work, his tongue stuck slightly out between his teeth as he concentrated.

Once he was finished, Mulder crossed the room to grasp her shoulder. "I'll just be in the entertainment room, across the hall, if you need me." The tenor was hushed, sympathetic.

-o-0-o-

"Of course, that's what they used."

His partner's voice floating across the hallway to him brought Mulder to his feet, setting his reading glasses on the table before he stepped away.

"What, Scully?"

Relishing the change in climate, they had both reverted to summer attire. He was wearing his khaki shorts and black tank top, while she was relaxing in a violet polo shirt over her white canvas shorts.

She looked up from the transcript she had generated with the computer, a silicon incongruity sitting on the Victorian treasure. "Oh, sorry." She carried the sheets over to the divan, tucking her bare white feet up as she sat. "I've listened to the tapes you made, working with my recorded words until I think I understand just what had happened to my body during those missing three months. It's not as bad as I had feared, Mulder."

He smiled. "Does this mean you can stop worrying about cancer?"

She glanced at him over wire-rimmed glasses that had descended partially along her nose. "I don't know. The radioactive implants weren't inside me as long as they were for some of the MUFON women, but sarcomas have a certain element of chance associated with them. My likelihood of developing breast cancer is more probably related to my family background, so I can't count it out altogether, but still, this is a tremendous relief. I think I've worked out how they kept me still for that period of time without drugs. Listen."

Mulder cringed as she began to read her words out loud, holding his hand up, palm towards her. "Please, I had to hear you say all that once, and it nearly tore me up then. Just tell me what it means."

She rolled the papers into a tight coil. "I had been rendered motionless with a sensory blocker, an electrical device that was basically a feedback loop, Mulder. It phase inverted and effectively canceled the signals traveling along the major neural pathways into my arms and legs." She looked over at him. "You've heard of these, similar devices have been developed to fire the nerves in the legs of patients with spinal injuries, so they could walk."

His lip curled. "You mean those butchers induced quadrupelegic immobility in healthy, functioning women, like yourself?" He stood in front of her. "How did they know they weren't crippling you permanently?"

She blinked rapidly. "Mulder, the technology was proven, and they *didn't* use drugs."

Shocked by her detachment, he stepped back. "Scully, don't talk about yourself as if you were an automobile they could change the transmission out for! You, and maybe, Sam." He hugged himself.

She dropped the papers to stand beside him, prying his arms loose. "No, it disgusts me as much as it does you, but it means we'll ... both ... be all right, don't you see?"

He focused on her. "I suppose." Chewing his lip, Mulder was lost in memories of a cold, sterile hospital room. _They almost killed you._

-o-0-o-

Scully was on her way back from the kitchen with a glass of carrot juice, her mind puzzling over some of the exchanges between the doctors she remembered. She paused when she heard sniffles from the entertainment center. "Mulder?" She stepped in, but there was no sign of his brown hair, or slender white feet. Scully was used to the sight of either when she came and went. The one would be poking up above the sofa cushions as he wrote frantically at the low table. Or, the pair would be resting on the back while, in his mind, he reconstructed what he remembered from the missing portions of text.

"Yeah?"

She was surprised by his coarse crack of a reply. "You okay?" When he sat up, she could see his red-rimmed eyes.

"Yeah, sure. You?"

She closed the distance between the door and the back of the sectional couch then reached to touch his shoulder. "I'm fine. What have you worked out?"

He swiveled, relieved she was approaching him as his rational partner, not the friend who would worry over his tears. _But you'll need that, too._

Padding towards the end of the cushions and down into the sunken part of the room, she gave him time to scrub his eyes with his fist while she faced away from him. After she rounded the corner to sit by his side, she pushed the notes and glossy prints of blacked-out pages away from her to set the tumbler of pumpkin-colored liquid on the glass-topped center table.

He passed one of the photos for her to study while he summarized his findings. "Apparently, if a test subject turned out to have no genes of significance, they were returned to their homes. Usually the person had false memories of a kidnapping, or concealment in a tightly confined space, or underground, before release with no apparent notice. In an appendix that was all sanitized, the report discusses a plan to use two layers of hypnosis, one to plant similar recollections, and a second, deeper layer of what was much like the story of Betty and Barney Hill." They locked eyes.

"Mulder, you don't mean..."

He nodded. "They had been creating memories that would discredit both the test subjects and the UFO community, just to protect themselves." He shoved the papers off the table as he stood, pacing in front of her in a rage. "They tried, they wanted ... " He spun in a tight circle, crossed his arms, then stared at the ceiling, barely aware of her comments as she spoke to him.

"So, they would have double-layered Sam's memories, and probably yours as well." She watched him, while chewing on his knuckles, nod aimlessly. _Focus him, Dana._ "What did they do to the test subjects with genes of significance, the ones who passed the tests I failed?" She rose, snatching his thick-lensed frames out of the way of his restless feet.

But he was too distracted to notice. "What they began to do to you, Scully. They would induce partial, or total memory loss, then re-release the victims on the other side of the continent from their homes. If they ever found their way back to their families, it would be years or decades later." He froze, running one hand through his hair. "I don't understand why you were returned, or how. It seems to violate all their procedures."

She arched her eyebrows. "I can't imagine what it would have been like for those amnesia victims, lost and wandering."

He chewed his lip. "I can." His eyes were fixed on some spot outside one of the walls while she walked around the table to him.

She rubbed his elbow to bring him back from the dark world in the document. "Mulder?" When he realized there was someone still with him, her gentle prodding penetrated the confusion he felt. "Should we take a break and go walking on the beach? I'd like to, and after all that's happened, we shouldn't leave each other alone too long."

Blinking, he allowed her to slip her hand around his arm, to lead him away from the mass of papers and his bleak thoughts.

-o-0-o-

"No!"

Mulder crossed through the hallway to the great desk, but his partner was not kneeling beside it, replacing a cable, as he had thought when he heard her shout. "Scully?"

"Why are you doing this?" The new cry from her struck him like a blow.

The following moan chilled him, so he spun, scanning the room for her auburn hair, or her round, owly glasses, perched on her nose.

"No." His partner had retreated, whimpering, into one corner, pressing herself, shaking and wide-eyed, into the bookcase.

"Scully!" Mulder darted to her side, ready to carry her to one of the Fiats and the hospital, if necessary. He sat close to her huddled form to reach for her, hooking his fingers behind her arms. "Sh, sh, it's okay." He drew her into his lap, rocking her in his hold, sandwiching her head between his chin and his shoulder with the careful support of his hand.

She clutched at his shirt, unresponsive to his stroking of her hair.

Mulder bit his lip, forcing back the tears that threatened to overflow. He would stay like this for however long she needed him to, until he brought her back from the warehouse and her own darkness. "Oh, Scully, what's wrong? You're not there, you know, you're here with me."

After an eternity of fear, a slight nod, so he leaned back to see her face. "Talk to me." His partner dropped her forehead against his chest, concentrating on setting an even rhythm for her suspiration to focus herself. Through the hands he kept on her spine and shoulder, he felt her stiffen as she began wrestling her anxiety in submission.

A soft tap on his arm, a little sigh, then Agent Scully took charge of Dana's wayward emotions. "It was just a flashback, Mulder, I'm sorry I frightened you."

He released her, guiding her as they moved to the velvet cushions, taking seats at opposite ends of the settee.

She rubbed her eyes, lowering her arms to hug her knees tightly. "It was after they had begun the attempt to change me. I was the first test subject who had rejected the retro-virus and survived."

He slid beside her. "Was that the source of the branched DNA?"

She nodded. "A retrovirus, or any virus, for that matter, survives by injecting its genetic code into the nucleotide sequences of the host cell it infects, using the organism's own replication processes to create new viruses for it. My guess is that the virus they generated was designed to insert whole new DNA sections into my body, to change me into..."

He grimaced. "One of those deformed things I saw in the boxcar in New Mexico."

"Or the people I saw killed at the Leper Colony."

He shut his eyes tightly. The thought that his vital, beloved partner would have mutated into one of those misshapen grotesques sickened him. _No more sparkling eyes to smile or groan at me, nor the upturned nose, no wavy cinnamon-colored hair, or quick, precise steps beside me. No more Scully._ He was grateful Samantha had been spared. _Or had she?_ Mulder pushed that fear firmly away, refusing to kill the hope that sustained him through long nights and wearying days.

"Mulder?" Her fingers on his arm brought him out of himself, as those green-blue eyes, full of concern, whose potential loss he had just regretted, focused on him.

He pointed his chin at her. "What happened to you just now?"

"I was reading my words when suddenly more images popped into my head, until I was overwhelmed by the sounds and the smells." She shuddered. "They *are* doctors, and they were curious. But all the probing, the prodding, the hands inside my body." She crossed her arms on her stomach, then looked to him. "I felt so *violated* by it."

Before he could check himself, Mulder reached for her shoulder, but she was fully Agent Scully again, her muscles tight, her jaw clenched. "I'm sorry." Shifting his hand to the sofa back, he rubbed the fine acanthus leaves carved there instead.

"It's no wonder I was so sick, the carrier virus they use is more virulent than the cold viruses in its infectiveness." She straightened, setting her feet on the floor. "I'm glad I'm a pathologist, Mulder; the dead can't be tortured."

He touched her knee, desperate to reach past the chain mail and shielding to comfort the woman beneath.

-o-0-o-

Lowenberg Home  
Miami, Florida  
Monday, February 17, 1997  
8:53 pm

"Mulder?" She walked in behind him, so he swiveled. "I'm done, I think. We can talk about what to do with our papers and notes tomorrow. But, I'd like to make some use of those wonderful, imported feather beds, rather than crashing on the rug again."

He hopped over the back of the couch. "I'm pretty much finished up myself; I think I've remembered or worked out all I can. It's what time?"

Since she had shrugged, the pair walked to the kitchen, seeking the cuckoo-clock hung by the door.

He rubbed the white band on his wrist, remembering he had left his watch on his bathroom sink. "Oh, five of nine. That makes it almost four in the morning in Santorini."

Scully sat at the counter, propping her head up with her hand, recalling that her partner had spent the better part of the afternoon exchanging encrypted E-mails with his stepfather. "You think Max can help us hide this evidence and the originals of the D'Amato documents?"

He nodded. "He's already reserved a container in a Swiss bank vault. All we have to do is make arrangements to meet his courier at the Airport, and he'll take it from there. The guys have already gathered the D'Amato documents." He grinned. "I let Max work out a code for the courier to use when he meets them at National. I couldn't keep up with what Byers and Langly were proposing, but somehow, Max could."

Scully slipped off the stool. "I can imagine. It's good we amended the signatories for the safe-deposit boxes to include one of the Gunmen on each, or we would be flying all over the Northeast between now and then."

He pulled the refrigerator door open to kneel. "Right."

She peered on over his head. "How do we know the materials will arrive safely?" She accepted the tray of vegetables and cheeses he passed her, set them on the counter, then reached into the bread box by the refrigerator.

He glanced over, then mentally berated himself for not sharing all the details with his partner. "This is Mossad we're talking about, Scully, not the CIA." He fixed a significant stare on her lined face. "It's not a problem."

Drawing a well-honed blade out of the knife block to cut their crusty rye bread into thick slices, she nodded. "Oh. I had forgotten how well-connected Max was."

He grinned. "The wealthy and powerful." He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. "I have the number and the code." After stuffing it back away, he dug in the bottom bin of the refrigerator, retrieving a bag of corned beef and holding it high. "Ah, the joys of a high-fat diet, Scully." He smirked at her expression of severe doctorly disapproval.

-o-0-o-

"Scully?"

She had lain awake, listening to the shuffling footsteps outside her bedroom. _It took you long enough._ The auburn-haired pathologist slipped out from under the covers to open the door a crack. "Is there a problem with the documents?"

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweats. "No, not yet. Max will phone with the verification in our morning."

Scully studied his eyes carefully, sensing that the horror of a nightmare lurked behind them. She realized that while the dreams filled with terror might be over for her, they would continue to plague her partner, until he found his sister, or perhaps afterward as well.

She disappeared in the darkness, returning to step into the hallway, concealing the flannel pajamas, faded to the same pale shade as her skin, under her white terrycloth robe. Scully had stuffed the thick rubber-soled socks she used to warm her feet into one of the robe's sewn-on pockets.

She softened her voice until it was as gentle and soothing as she could manage. "Mulder." She brushed his rough cheek with her fingers. She felt him shudder at her touch, so she knew it was some echo of a past torment in his mind that had him pacing outside her room in the night. "What is it?"

Attempting to push his fears aside, he shook his head, but they tumbled out nonetheless. "I thought I was with Sam in that warehouse, then it was you, then Sam again." He swayed on his feet. "I need to rest, but these images are still there, and the faces keep screaming in agony."

Suddenly grateful she lacked his vivid imagination, she slid her arm around his waist, feeling the warmth the pacing had generated through his under-shirt and sweats. "We'll go watch a movie, relax, and you'll fall asleep in no time. I think I saw that Max has 'The Return of the Pink Panther' on laserdisc."

He froze, making her wonder if there was more to his insomnia than terror. "Okay."

She waited, sensing his hesitancy in his withdrawn posture. "Do you want to tell me, Mulder?"

He bowed his head. "In a little while, Scully, but not now." He clutched her to him.

She rubbed his side, hoping he could release the suffering from this night without keeping her up for the rest of it. _Whatever it takes, Dana._

They settled in to enjoy the film, his head on a pillow by her hip, she wondering how many years he had been without such simple comforts as a child. Having passed blissful evenings with her head on Ahab's shoulder while they counted stars on the back porch, or just listened to the sounds of the deepening night, she mourned for him.

Scully watched Mulder, smiling, occasionally chuckling, drowsing in and out during the film. Once when his eyes were closed, she stroked his hair, but lifted her hand away when his sister's name escaped silently from his lips. _Was she the only one in your family who showed you any tenderness, Mulder?_ She could sense him relaxing, snuggling down into the cushions before he wrapped one arm around the pillow, feeling the solidity of his muscles against her thigh. During the credits, she began to rise.

But, not really asleep, he sat up, then touched her shoulder. "I'll get it, Scully." She wondered if their closeness had been enough to banish his torments, but the pain she saw in his eyes when he resumed his seat beside her told her otherwise.

"Mulder?" Since he had waved his hand in a silencing gesture, she waited.

"Thanks for sticking with me, Scully."

"Mulder, I..."

He shook his head. "I keep thinking about Sam, lost and alone..." Mulder struggled with his sorrow, forcing himself to speak. _I hear her, calling me._ "I can only hope there was someone who listened to her when she was remembering, someone-" He touched her hand- "-for her." The tears came to him again, first as a trickle, then great gasps that shook him, so Scully pulled his head onto her lap.

As he wrapped his arms around her back and hips she forced herself to stay relaxed, soothing him with her voice and hands as his fear poured out of him onto the terrycloth. "We'll find her, Mulder, you and I, we will." These were words she had whispered to herself often these past few weeks. He nodded as she spoke them to his ear, the flow ebbing to stillness. "Are you ready to sleep, do you think?"

Another nod, so she began to shift, but he tightened his hold on her. "Not in bed, Scully, here. I can't handle a bed, not tonight. Please."

She settled back down, slipping on the socks, then noted his own bare feet. "All right, do you need a blanket?"

He raised his head, flicking his face dry. "No, not unless you're cold."

She wiggled over until she was propped against the corner of the couch, before stretching her legs out to let him fit himself between her and the upright cushions. It had been, perhaps, this aspect of her partner's personality that Scully had accepted first, this urgent need for physical connection that kept him grounded to her while he pursued his quests.

As little as she liked to be touched, and resisted it from others, they had worked out their communication in gestures, glances, and light contacts. In fact, it served as well as or better than words, in the difficult, often overwhelming situations they stumbled into. Now, she had come to accept that Mulder was, at times, a lost twelve-year-old boy, wandering in the body of a troubled thirty-five-year-old man, looking for a little solace.

Scully's eyes roamed aimlessly over the white expanse of the ceiling. _Is this the way it is with all partners?_ Mulder was the first man she had worked with closely. She wondered if that was why she had managed to adjust so effectively to his quirks and habits.

_Had I been an older, more experienced agent, would I have developed a style of my own that clashed with his?_ She thought of Jerry Lamana, how attached Mulder had been to him, submitting without public protest when the blond man had stolen his profile, the shock and grief over his death. Tipping her head, she dropped her hand from the top of the cushions to his side, heard him murmur, then felt him shift closer to her.

_No, Dana, he would hardly be looking for comfort from Alex Krycek, now would he?_ She smoothed the bunched material in his T-shirt, before deciding it was too early in the morning to puzzle through the nature of her bond with this man, then her head dropped back on the white bolsters.

-o-0-o-

Dana Scully blinked, then focused on the dancing highlights of gold and ivory on the wall by the bed. _Bed? Lights? But there are no windows in here._ The flickering specks were from sunlight reflecting off the ripples in the pool. She turned towards their probable source.

She was back in her own room, she realized, but she was not alone. Her partner had flopped into the armchair beside the glass door leading onto her deck. By the sprawl of his long arms over the high sides, he appeared to be as totally at ease there as he was on her sofa back in Alexandria. _Well, at least he *did* drop off eventually._

Turning down the covers, she shifted her weight carefully, hoping to close the drapes so he could continue to sleep. She lifted her robe off the foot of the bed, tugging it around her as she crossed the room. _I *was* wearing it downstairs, wasn't I?_ But, just before the thick brocade met in the center of the windows, the cell phone buzzed from his lap. _I didn't know he could turn it down that low._

He pulled himself awake. "Mulder." A pause, then he punched the end button. Glancing at the bed, he called for her softly, before checking around the room, smiling when he saw his partner standing just a few feet away. "They're delivered and secure, Scully."

Nodding, she opened the curtains again. "Good. So, when do we head back to DC?"

Rubbing his eyes, he stood to stretch, scratching his chest through the cotton knit. "We don't. For once, we give ourselves a real break, partner, just as I promised. I haven't taken a swim or run on the beach since we arrived."

She crossed her arms. "How did I...?"

He shuffled his feet, managing to look embarrassed, apologetic, and delighted, in three quick shifts. "I carried you in here." He shrugged. "You don't need to develop my bad habits, Scully."

-o-0-o-

Mulder was lapping the pool, over and over, while Scully floated on her raft, pulling in the heat from the air and the sun. Occasionally, she would be jostled by the wake when he passed her by.

Eventually, she heard his even strokes cease, felt a light tugging at her fingertips, so responded in kind to his playfulness. "Nessie squeezed in through one of the drains. It must be an X-File." Turning, she beamed at the pair of mock-serious hazel eyes fixed on her face, the hair that was plastered straight down on his head.

"I haven't seen anything unusual, Scully." Kicking his feet to keep himself vertical, he looked around. "Should I check for you? It *would* qualify as work, then."

Lazily, she shook her head. "So, have you crossed the Channel yet, Mulder?"

He grinned broadly. "Decided to try for the New World, and I had to stop off at Iceland. I hear the women are beautiful and oh-so-friendly." Crossing his arms on the raft, he rested his chin on his hands, while he unwittingly pulled them both out into the deep end of the pool.

She patted the four corners of her inflated mattress, appreciating and encouraging this rare feeling of relaxation they shared by her pantomime of an intense search. "No Nordic beauties here. Must be Spitzbergen. You didn't take a wrong turn somewhere, did you?"

He cocked his head, searching for a suitable riposte, but finding none.

She reflected on the absolute trust she felt towards her partner at this moment. _Had the man beside me been one of my brothers, or even Mulder in a fit of whimsy, I would have been dunked by now._ But their discoveries had left him in one of his quiet, protective moods, while she felt safe and cared for.

"No. I'm sure this is where I want to be."

_Thanks._

_You too, partner._

-o-Finis-o-

Passages in Memory

=====o=====================================================o=====

Originally released to ATXC: 10/11/96

Well, as the Bard said so much more eloquently, a little more prattling on the author's part, and I'll go away! Lest you think the report showing up unexpectedly is a too-convenient device of fiction on my part, let me reassure you (or frighten you) that it isn't. The US Federal Government uses prison labor to clean and rehabilitate old safes for reuse. There have been several embarrassing incidents (mostly done with now), where a container full of classified materials has been delivered for reworking. I just took literary license in assuming that sailors might be called in if an exceptionally large cache of documents was suddenly discovered, and as for the connection to Scully, well, there's a reason why there are X-Files.

I'd like to thank Virginie Chaplais, Michelle Creek, and Adina Ringler for all their support while I worked this one through. Virginie challenged me to produce a story that was as hard-hitting as "Sins", Michelle kept asking me when it would be coming out, and Adina cheered me on when my spirits flagged in the effort.

Part two of this trilogy will involve the full-up X-Files Section (Yes, you finally meet Agent Woo-Woo!) and some life-forms from the newly verified Kingdom Archaea, that bear suspicious similarities to the 'silicon' bug in _Firewalker._ I have stacks of articles from _Nature_ and _Science_ on the subject to read.

Anyway, all praise, comments, and constructive criticisms are especially welcome, or just E-mail me to chat, if you want. Flames are handled by my familiar, Princess, a grey and brown tabby who faithfully soaks them through the top of the monitor as she lies upon it, watching me type.

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